Learning to Lie
by Mortimer S
Summary: On a trip to England, Ryou stumbles upon the magical world, is mistaken for a wizard, and is coerced into attending Hogwarts. The politically unstable wizarding world is perilous-- will the spirit be able to teach his host how to survive?
1. It's A Whole New World!

Really Long Author Notes: My knowledge of Yu-Gi-Oh is woefully incomplete. That is, I have read manga volumes 1-7 (season 0) and also 31-38 (memory world arc), but not anything in between. Instead, I have watched the dubbed rendering of the anime by 4kids, which has been horrendously mutilated in favor of censoring violence and death. I have also seen a few of the Japanese episodes, mainly the Marik flashbacks so I could descry them in their full violent and death-inclusive glory. I have only seen up to the end of Battle City, which means that no, I have not seen the KC Grand Prix and DOMA Orichalcos filler arcs. But since they are _filler_ arcs, they are not important to the plot, however interesting they may be, and due to the fact that this story is set only a bit after Battle City, unimportant to it as well.

I cannot write a duel to save my life, and I seriously doubt that there will be any need for it anyways. But if the time comes that someone duels, I will try my pathetic best, because I hate it when people write 'they dueled.' '(Insert name here) won.' That is just well... terribly short and boring.

The Spirit of the Ring will be referred to as 'Bakura,' 'Thief King,' or 'Tomb Robber,' as well as by his other titles by the narrator when he is in control, due to the fact that the narrator is omniscient and awesome. Ryou will only ever refer to him as 'the spirit,' 'Spirit of the Ring,' or 'Yami/Dark Bakura.' He does not know that the spirit was the Thief King, but he certainly is aware that he likes to steal things. Therefore, his thieving tendencies will be mentioned. Also, in my opinion, the Spirit of the Ring is still the Thief King, and not just some pure evil bit of Zork. I think he only gets that way around the people he vehemently despises- Atem being one of them- and that he can be just himself, with Zork only a niggling existence at the back of his mind in this story, where he is far far away from the Pharaoh.

This story uses Japanese names and the manga/Japanese anime concept of Shadow Games or Dark Games. That means the loser gets a penalty game, dies, or gets his soul sealed in an object, and doesn't just 'get sent to the Shadow Realm' or some crap like that every time. The Shadow Realm will exist as a place, as I need some excuse for the magic-ness outside of games and the English dub conveniently creates a good one. Besides, I'm pretty sure the Japanese anime does mention some sort of dark plane where the monsters are and where people who lose the more serious shadow games (like the ones in battle city) go if they don't die.

I don't really like using random Japanese terms because it can be annoying to other people, but I will use the ones often used in canon or fandom. Yadonushi means parasitic host/landlord. Yami means dark. Hikari means light. There also happens to be a Japanese sentence in this chapter, but it is needed.

I am aware that Ryou is not British, merely very polite in his language usage. However, due to the fact that this is a fanfic, and also a Harry Potter crossover, it is in my best interests to claim that he is from England so he has an excuse to be involved. It's so horribly cliché for him to just get a Hogwarts letter when HE'S IN JAPAN. Also, I will try to portray Yami no Bakura (Dark Bakura) in character (at least at first), but it is unlikely I will succeed, so I apologize in advance. As far as I know, I have never ever read a fic where he wasn't rather OOC.

Finally, I am also aware that Ryou's father isn't mentioned exactly, and we only assume he's alive and away. In this story, he will be an archaeologist, because that's what everyone likes to say, and it's convenient. Now I am at last finished with my annoying blathering.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh is authored/owned by Kazuki Takahashi, not me. Harry Potter is by J.K. Rowling, also not me. This is merely the product of the idle imaginations of a bored teenager who is making no money. Therefore, You-Know-Who demands that you-no-sue.

"Speech"  
_"Telepathy"  
'Thoughts'  
_**(Translation for foreign sentences)**

Sorry in advance for grammatical/typographical errors. If you see any, it would be good of you to point them out to me. I do put a comma before the and in a list, because I'm just like that. On with the story!

xxxxxx

Ryou ran his hand agitatedly through his strands of snowy white hair. His day had really not been going well. For one, the spirit had been rightly pissed off when one of his daggers (a dagger that Ryou wasn't aware of owning) had been confiscated by the airport security workers, who were astonished that an innocent looking child would have such a dangerous weapon upon his person. Fortunately, his baggage had already gone through, which meant that the various weapons (of the illegal type), pilfered valuables, and contraband that Yami no Bakura had undoubtedly thrown in would be fine for the present time.

Now that he was safely aboard the plane, he had assumed that he could get some peace of mind, but it was not to be so. For he was wedged in between two bickering brothers, who talked and waved fists in front of him and utterly ignored his presence. A pounding migraine was building up in his skull, promising further torture. Ryou had a mind to dive into his soul room and shove his yami out to deal with the real world, but he was afraid for the well being of those nearby, as well as his own, for he didn't know if he could regain control if he let go of it. However, he was becoming increasingly more annoyed, and was leaning towards the sentiment that they would deserve whatever the spirit decided to do to them, and he wouldn't even care that his body was occupied.

Ryou could still feel the waves of anger washing through the strange mental link he had with the Spirit of the Ring. Apparently, Dark Bakura hadn't gotten over the loss of his knife just yet. Ryou sighed and resigned himself to make his own situation more desirable. Hadn't his dark always manipulated him, been able to completely shut his soul out from his own body? Ryou was sure it was because he was too weak and too soft to stop the spirit. He resolved that he would be strong, and now was as good a time as any to live up to that promise.

"If you two don't shut up right now, I'll make you." he hissed, trying his best to appear menacing. The two boys stopped arguing for a second to stare incredulously at the doe-eyed, cuddly, and utterly innocuous looking albino before them. The one on the right snickered.

"Oh yeah, and what're you going to do, glare at us?" he snorted. Ryou's face split into a smirk that would have made the Thief King proud. When he had said that one of his daggers had been taken by security, he meant just that. Only _one_ of them. Due to his yami's strange obsession, he used to wake up to find that he was heavily armed, and the habit had stuck, so he had quite a few weapons stashed upon his person. The airport security simply assumed that he had none left after they'd taken the poniard that Thief King Bakura had personally placed (and succeeded in making the yami blow his top and make Ryou very nervous).

"Oh no, not when I could use this to do more..._ lasting_ damage." Ryou said ominously, flashing the knife that had been concealed up his sleeve. The boys blanched at this, and the other one began spluttering.

"Wh-what? Where'd you get that? How'd you get it on here? I'll report you!" Ryou smirked wider and waved the thing casually in front of the child's face.

"I wouldn't go talking if I were you. Wouldn't want my hand to slip." he purred. Inside, Ryou was congratulating himself on how much he sounded like his yami (or what he assumed the spirit had been like, from the descriptions of his friends as he'd been unconscious when his dark was in control). On second thought, though, that probably wasn't a good thing. In any case, his threats (largely empty, for he wouldn't hurt a fly) had achieved the desired effects, and he spent the rest of his plane ride in blissful silence.

The London Heathrow Airport was a huge and bustling place, and Ryou felt himself nearly overwhelmed by the crowd. Presently, Yami no Bakura had reawakened and was looking out of his hikari's eyes. When they reached the baggage claim, Bakura deemed his host in need of rest and pushed to the forefront, seizing control of their shared body. It was probably a good thing this time, for the yami was very assertive and managed to shove his way up to the front of the hubbub, picking up their baggage in record time and hastening out of the place.

When Ryou realized that he could still see and was conscious while the spirit was in control, he was overjoyed. His jubilation was short-lived, however, when he remembered their reason for coming. His father had wanted them to be together over the summer holiday, and of course he readily agreed, enthused at the idea of seeing his father again. However, the old coot (in the yami's words) had backed out at the last minute, having to leave for some excavation happening somewhere in an exotic country that was much more important than his own_ son_. Ryou had reasoned that since he'd already gotten the plane ticket, that he might as well have a month-long vacation in the country where he'd been born. Besides, it might do the spirit some good if he was away from the Pharaoh, the person he hated most of all.

Bakura was greeted by a taxi rather than the man Ryou called 'father,' and as they headed for his yadonushi's London home, he couldn't help but sigh at the irony of it all. His own father, along with the rest of his family and village, had been brutally murdered by the cruel High Priest of the Pharaoh thousands of years ago to fuel the creation of those wretched millennium items. Ryou's father was all that remained of his family, but he couldn't even spare the time to see his only son. It was such a shame, for the man would've caused Bakura's yadonushi much less grief had he simply died- not that he cared or anything.

The Thief King tossed the taxi fare absently at the driver before grabbing his bags and jumping out of the car and grimacing at the perfectly kept lawns all around the block, which contrasted greatly with the dead grass before Ryou's own house, a house that had been uninhabited for the past few years. He fished for the keys at the front door of the house, frowned when he couldn't find them, and settled on his handy lock pick instead. It took less than a minute to get the door open.

"Yadonushi, you need a better lock." he chided aloud, knowing his host (who's conscious he hadn't bothered to suppress) would hear, as he easily made it into the house. For crying out loud, there wasn't even a burglar alarm.

Yami no Bakura walked inside, looked around, dropped their suitcases, and relinquished control back to his host. He had no interest in unpacking and other such menial tasks. Ryou sighed, beginning the ordeal of organizing all the things he'd brought with him (as well as the things his yami had taken the liberty of slipping into his suitcase). An exasperated smile crept its way onto the hikari's face as he discovered not one, not two, not five, six, or even nine or ten, but _eleven_ different knives, of varying shapes and sizes but invariably easily capable of inflicting mortal wounds, interspersed throughout his neatly folded clothing. Add that to the three (slightly less dangerous) daggers that he now kept on his person, and that made 14 weapons smuggled through customs. It made him wonder just how incompetent the security really could be, as it had discovered only one of them.

Since his yami seemed to be asleep, or whatever it was that he did, Ryou took the liberty of stashing the knives where he felt they should go. The spirit could do something about it later if he wasn't pleased with it. Satisfied, he headed off to bed.

xxxxxx

As he left the house the next day to go sightseeing, he again carried- as a precaution- the three daggers he was used to having by then. Ryou took a taxi to the outskirts of the London suburbs before going on foot around town to drink in all he had missed. Equipped with his knives and a slightly psychotic spirit, he could even go into the less reputable parts of town without fear. Still however, he deemed it wiser not to do so, for his effeminate looks and childlike demeanor were magnets for unsavory attentions, and the spirit wasn't always reliable. And, speaking of magnets, Ryou jumped a mile when the ring glowed and its tines stood up and honed in on some unknown source, quivering in place and defying gravity. Both the hikari and yami were dumbfounded. As far as they knew, the thing only activated on its own when there was some shadow magic infused thing nearby- namely a millennium item or someone controlled by one. This sudden magic detection didn't add up. After all, all the items were accounted for: Yugi had the Puzzle, Rod, and Tauk; Shadi had the Ankh and Scales; and they themselves had the Ring and Eye (at least, Bakura knew he had the eye). The spirit voiced all these thoughts with one sentence.

_"What the _fuck_?"_ he demanded loudly and churlishly inside their shared mindspace. Ryou cringed.

Realizing that they were being stared at, he quickly grabbed the Ring and shoved it down his shirt, muffling its glow. He then made for a deserted alleyway before pulling it back out and watching its pointers. They directed him towards the other side of the alley, and, burning with curiosity, he followed their lead. The Ring pulled him into populated territory once more, and Ryou tried his best to look normal despite being in possession of a glowing pendant that was currently going haywire. He was practically running to keep up with its tugging, and the attraction was stronger with each step he took. It dragged him past a book store and then made a ninety-degree turn with its tines to point at a blank brick wall. By then, it was nearly strangling Ryou in its insistence that there was something there.

_"Go inside, Yadonushi"_ the Spirit of the Ring said. Ryou was bewildered.

_"Inside what?"_ he inquired, hoping his thoughts were heard. His yami was definitely seeing something that he couldn't. Either that, or he was nuts. At the moment, both seemed reasonable.

_"Inside the pub!"_ the now irate spirit snapped. "Oh for the love of Ra!"

The King of Thieves took over and strode into the dingy pub known as The Leaky Cauldron with an air of confidence, as if he knew exactly what he was doing and wasn't just as confused as his host. Said host was staring in shock through the eyes of his body at the doorway that had just appeared. Apparently, with the Tomb Robber in control, he could see it as clear as day. Yami no Bakura remembered to stuff the Ring into his shirt at the last minute. With a few snarls and well chosen words from Bakura, the thing calmed down and stopped glowing. As he entered, a few people looked up from whatever they were doing before losing interest or faltering on the receiving end of a dark glare.

"You're new around here, aren't you? How can I help you?" asked a wizened man standing behind the counter. He smiled. The spirit wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't that he didn't understand(since Ryou could speak English, he could as well), it was that there was something very off about this place- not to mention it was the _Ring_ that had led them there.

Bakura had taken the Millennium Eye from Pegasus back when he had sought to unite the seven items. He had never intended to _use_ it by itself. However, now he was immensely grateful that he had it. Although the Eye's full power could only be tapped into by replacing one of his real eyes with it(something he was not willing to do- after all, it'd ruin his good looks), it could still be utilized simply by being in his possession. Using it was precisely what the Thief King was doing at the moment, his hand clenched around the orb in his pocket and his mind concentrated on filtering out unneeded information. If simply brushing over minds was so confusing, Bakura didn't even want to know how hearing random people's deepest secrets screaming at him would feel. For the first time, he respected Pegasus, and anyone else who had used the eye to its full potential, for their mental perseverance.

_"My head feels like it's going to explode!"_ Ryou complained. He found out that by simply talking loudly when in his soul room, he could make himself heard by his dark while the spirit was in control. He didn't bother to ask where the Millennium Eye had come from, deciding that he didn't want to know. A window had just appeared on the far wall of his soul room, and random things were flying by outside, occasionally hitting the glass with a jarring impact.

_"Correction. _Our_ head feels like its going to explode."_ Bakura replied with dry humor. He decided that now was a good time to let go of the wretched eyeball. As soon as his fingers left the Eye, the stream of thoughts was abruptly cut off, leaving an echoing silence within their mind. The window in Ryou's room (and unbeknown to him, in the spirit's room as well) had vanished. The Tomb Robber found that he had learned quite a bit, although it was rather unorganized. The information went something like this:

_The Leaky Cauldron, entrance to Diagon Alley third brick to the left, above the dustbin Hogwarts shouldn't be muggle-borns school supplies wands, Ollivander Flourish and Blotts for books Madam Malkin's, need new robes hope I have enough money seventeen sickles to a galleon the Dark Lord returned, preposterous, Harry Potter Headmaster Dumbledore nuts Harry Potter hero Boy-Who-Lived Wizarding World Ministry of Magic fools Fudge Minister of Magic Aurors Harry Potter Dementors Ministry trial has to get off expelled impossible staying at -_(here there was a strange blank)- _Molly mad haven't returned home Hogwarts term starting still no defense professor..._

And so on it went. It was a messed jumble, the thoughts of many people running into each other with an end result of a mass of keywords, which Bakura supposed he'd just have to make do with until he figured out how to control the power of the Millennium Eye. He paused briefly, wondering how he'd answer the man. He decided that he still had no idea what would pass as an acceptable answer. Fortunately, Ryou was there to save the day with his quick thinking. He threw his yami into his soul room and took control, mildly surprised at the lack of protest, and gave the man behind the counter his best adorable and innocent look.

"Sumimasen, watashi ha michi ni mayotte i masu...** (Excuse me, I am lost...)**" he began. As expected, the innkeeper stared at him in confusion. Ryou blathered on some more in Japanese before shaking his head, shrugging, and running out the back door.

_"Okay, I gathered something about tapping the third brick to the left of the dustbin... That would be this one."_ Bakura took control and tapped said brick. Nothing happened.

_"Maybe you need one of those wand things." _Ryou suggested. Now that he knew how, he found it almost like second nature to speak with his dark. Was this how it was with Yugi and his other self?

_"This sounds like something out of a bloody fairytale. I guess those wands are for channeling magic. I'd assume shadow magic would do the trick..."_ As he spoke, the Ring flashed and thudded against the designated brick. The brick wiggled and the wall seemed to convulse before disappearing piece by piece and forming into an archway.

_"What do you know, it worked."_ Ryou murmured from within. Bakura snorted. The brick wall reformed behind him as he stepped into Diagon Alley. _"Well, it just looks like more shops."_ His gaze was immediately attracted to a startlingly white building, which towered above the others. Of course, after he had beheld the glass and steel wonder that was the Kaiba Corp building, this marble block hardly succeeded in inspiring any measure of awe. Lettering above the doorway read 'Gringotts Bank,' and the yami's first thought was _'I wonder if these wizards have anything worthwhile to steal.'_

He stalked confidently towards the bank and passed the strange creature by the door without a thought. He paused briefly at the second set of doors, smirking at the message emblazoned upon it, which to him represented something of a challenge (as opposed to a warning). He could almost feel his yadonushi rolling his eyes.

Inside the bank, behind the counter, were more of the strange creatures, who looked for all the world like reject duel monsters. Apparently, they were the bankers, so Bakura went and got in the line to reach one of them.

"Next!" the thing spat irritably. Bakura sauntered up to the counter.

"I need to exchange pounds for er... _'-I think there was something about Sickles or... that's it, Galleons!-' _Galleons." he said, managing to pull it off convincingly. The creature behind the desk scowled.

"How much are you exchanging?"

After a quick consultation with his light, Bakura replied, "£1000" and produced said money from somewhere on his person.

_"Are you out of your mind! Why do you carry so much money on you? Scratch that, where'd you get so much money?"_ he yelled internally at his yadonushi.

_"I'm actually pretty sure you're the one who stole it." _Ryou informed him. Bakura was confused. He couldn't actually remember having stolen anything yet in England. He was rudely pulled from his thoughts as the thing behind the counter chucked a bag at him.

"One-hundred-forty-two Galleons, 8 Sickles, and 14 Knuts. Next!" Bakura turned and rushed out the door, eager to get away from the nasty tempered creatures who populated the bank before he got angry enough to send random bystanders to the shadow realm. He didn't want to attract attention. The spirit wondered what he'd do next.

_"Let's get a wand."_ Ryou suggested. He had figured that they might be useful.

_"No. We don't even know what they do exactly, and I don't think they're very shadow magic friendly. I've been feeling a bit off ever since we came near this place. Actually, I was a bit queasy even when we were back at the house. How much influence do you think this magic has around here?"_ Bakura wasn't sure why he was asking the hikari's opinion.

_"I'd imagine quite a bit, if it has its own community. If you don't want to get a wand, let's go to a clothing shop. It'd help us blend in. People are staring."_

_"Blend in? I think it's a little late for that. But fine, we'll go and see."_ It was true. People were already shooting odd looks at the strange albino boy ambling through the crowd in muggle clothing. Most backed off when they were hit full force with a glare that nearly knocked them off their feet. Somehow, the boy's chocolate brown eyes, which should have exuded warmth, were cold and hard and had taken on an almost bloody hue. Shoppers hurried on their way, avoiding the menace of the teen's gaze. Bakura prided himself in being both creepy enough to scare and suave enough to seduce, depending on the circumstances.

As they entered Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, they were greeted by a welcome sight (at least to the yami) of multitudes of black robes hanging from walls and folded upon racks. This was certainly his type of clothing shop, full of dark colors. Madam Malkin herself was busy fitting up a boy with slick, silvery blond hair, who was currently sneering at her. The witch pretended not to notice as she chattered on about current events and clothing sizes. She looked up at Bakura.

"I'll be with you in a moment, dear." she said. The Thief King nodded and leaned casually onto a wall, watching the scene before him indifferently. The blond boy looked decidedly impatient, and decided to strike up a conversation with the newcomer.

"Hi, I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy. I haven't seen you around before- what year are you in?" The Tomb Robber wasn't sure how to respond, and he doubted that pretending he could not speak English was a good idea this time. He reached for the Eye once more, and was again greeted by a flood of thoughts. However, this time, there were only two people in the vicinity, which meant that they were much more coherent. He learned that Draco's father was a very important person, that Draco himself was a Slytherin(whatever that was) going into fifth year at Hogwarts(which by now he'd deduced to be a school), and that Madam Malkin was being polite because Draco bought new robes very often, and it was good business. After thinking carefully for another second, Yami no Bakura came up with a suitable response.

"I am Ryou Bakura, although I prefer just Bakura. You haven't seen me around because I've been abroad in Japan." he said smoothly. Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Why Japan? It's not exactly known for its magical community." he drawled. Bakura clutched the eye firmly, concentrating. The boy was telling the truth, and not trying to test him or anything. Apparently however, Draco had already thought of an answer to this for himself: _"Japan doesn't have underage magic restrictions."_

"No underage magic restrictions." Bakura responded, echoing the other's thoughts. Draco smirked smugly and nodded.

"I'd leave this place myself, but Hogwarts is supposedly the best magic school around. Wouldn't want to miss out on my... education." From the sneer that accompanied this, the Thief King deduced that Draco seriously doubted the credibility of this assumption. A quick confirmation with the Eye told him that the only thing keeping the blond from leaving was his mother's insistence that he go to the school. Bakura mirrored Draco's sneer, crossing his arms.

"Oh? But I think my education's been fine without this so prestigious school." he said. Apparently, this conversation was making Madam Malkin uncomfortable. She finished with Draco and ushered Bakura over, draping a set of robes over him and starting to pin it to the right fit.

"I guess I might see you at Hogwarts. Or not." Draco called out with a last lazy wave before leaving the shop. Bakura's first impression of the boy was decent. He thought that Draco was rather similar to himself. He had enemies and allies, but no friends.

_"That's not true, Yami!"_ Ryou chided. _"You have me, and Yugi, and all his friends."_

_"You, perhaps, host,"_ the Tomb Robber conceded, _"but most certainly not the Pharaoh's midget and his gang. Those are more like the enemies."_

Ryou decided not to respond to this. Besides, the spirit wasn't exactly the talkative type, and he was sure he was getting on his dark's nerves.

Madam Malkin finished up with his fitting and unpinned him, waving her wand and muttering something under her breath. She then folded them up and handed them to him, with a declaration of, "5 Galleons." Bakura fished out the money and dropped it into the witch's hand before taking the robes and heading for the door.

"Thank you." he said curtly, pausing, before walking out.

_"Yatta! You were polite, Yami!"_ Ryou couldn't help but exclaim enthusiastically. He hoped this meant that the spirit was at least trying to learn manners.

_"I was just keeping up appearances, Yadonushi."_ The Tomb Robber grunted.

Ryou smiled to himself. The King of Thieves ignored the smugness emanating from his host and continued down the alley. He stopped in front of a shop called Magical Menagerie.

_"Yadonushi, we're getting a pet."_ he said.

_"If you want, Spirit."_ was Ryou's response, for he doubted he could really stop the spirit from having his way. He was surprised however, that Dark Bakura would want a _pet_ of all things. Bakura entered the shop and was greeted with a cacophony of squawks, hisses, shrieks, and yowls. A glittering black snake caught his eye, and he walked over to its cage, scrutinizing it. It hissed curiously at him.

"I wonder what kind of snake this is..."

Ryou shivered from inside his soul room, but kept quiet. He figured it would be alright as long as the spirit took care of it. Bakura picked up the cage and swaggered over to the shop counter.

"That's a rather rare specimen. They're very intelligent too. Five galleons and six sickles. Of course, he eats mice and other rodents like most snakes." the woman behind the counter informed him. The Thief King handed over the money and sauntered out of the store, cage in hand. As soon as they were outside, he opened the cage door and let the snake slither up his arm and around his neck. Ryou recoiled instinctively, though he wasn't actually the one in control.

_"You're letting that thing around my neck?"_ he voiced in disbelief.

_"I'll do what I want, Yadonushi. Yes, I'll have to name him..."_ The Tomb Robber was in a very good mood at the moment, the sort of mood usually only achieved when he was torturing people in dark games or stealing their most valued possessions. He really liked this snake. "I know; I'll name you Set." he said aloud. The snake hissed again, apparently satisfied.

Ryou could not see the reasoning behind this. It wasn't even a desert snake! Then again, it was just a name. He supposed it didn't really matter.

Bakura opened a portal into the shadow realm and chucked the empty cage in for safekeeping when he made sure no one was looking. He had decided that shopping in the magical world was fun. Plus, he'd barely made a dent in Ryou's money, and he wanted to buy something good so he'd have an excuse to steal more. A broomstick caught his eye, until Ryou reminded him that their shadow magic might interfere with the magic on the broom, and that he didn't want to go plunging to the ground from high up anytime soon.

Near the end of Diagon Alley was the entrance to a darker and dingier alleyway, labeled Knockturn Alley by a crooked wooden signpost. Bakura smirked. This was the type of place where he would be able to gather _real_ information. He pulled the hood of his cloak (which he'd put on earlier) over his head, trying his best to conceal all the wayward strands of white that could reveal who he might be. The effect was certainly rather intimidating, with the Thief King's bloody irises glaring out from beneath the hood. If one looked closely, they could see a scaly black head poking out from above the first clasp. Set hissed, rearranging his coils into a more comfortable position before withdrawing his head.

_"You look like a rare hunter manqué."_ Ryou couldn't resist saying, snickering from his soul room.

_"Shut up or I'll put you to sleep."_ Bakura grumbled. _"This is technically your body."_ he added as an afterthought. The laughing stopped abruptly. Satisfied, the Thief King stepped into the alleyway, senses on high alert for anything of import. He'd decided that walking while using the Eye wasn't the best idea, and so relied on his well honed listening abilities instead. There was certainly no lack of activity, despite the fact that the place was far less crowded than Diagon Alley. In Bakura's opinion, that just made it easier to overhear conversations.

The Tomb Robber heard hurried footsteps behind him, and a second later, a man brushed past him rudely before running off without apology. The yami narrowed his eyes before taking off quietly after the quickly retreating figure. He had tried that amateur trick enough in his earlier career that he knew he'd been robbed. And no one stole from the King of Thieves. Putting on an impossible burst of speed, he caught up with the mugger and pounced on him, planting his fist into the back of the man's skull and knocking him over. The dirty thief flipped over in an attempt to flatten the offending teen, but Bakura was well ahead of him, having already leapt off his back and gotten to his feet. Before the man could react, the Spirit of the Ring kicked him in the face, crushing his nose and causing vast amounts of blood to spurt out. The spirit reveled in the bloodshed, experiencing an insane burst of gleeful fascination as the crimson flew into the air and flecked his face. The man's hand twitched for his pocket, and Bakura realized that he was reaching for one of those wand things. He stepped on the man's hand (which caused him to scream in agony) before grabbing him by his bloody collar and slamming him into the wall of the alley with his prodigal strength, strength that Ryou's frail body wasn't supposed to have.

"Give it back." Yami no Bakura snarled, pulling out one of his knives and waving it in front of the man's face for good measure. It wasn't the best of blades, but it would do. The man whimpered before dropping a bag which landed on the ground with a clinking noise. "All of it, dimwit." The spirit knew without even looking that there had to have been much more money. Of course, he didn't really care so much about the money as he did his pride, which dictated that he wasn't allowed to lose. When the man didn't respond, Bakura grimaced and jammed the knife skillfully into his victim's side so as to inflict minimal damage and maximum pain, eliciting a delightfully tortured wail.

"Alright, alright! Just stop!" the man croaked. Bakura sneered at him distrustfully before dropping him and making to wipe of his knife. However, before he could, a forked tongue flicked out from inside his cloak and cleaned off some of the gore.

"Be careful not to cut yourself, Set." he murmured, as the tongue licked away at the knife. He received a hiss of acknowledgment in response. The man who had robbed him reached into his robes, apparently rummaging for something, before suddenly resurfacing with a wand pointed at Bakura. The Thief King could see that it was held awkwardly, due to it being in the wrong hand, but knew that it could still inflict damage.

"Reducto!" the man shouted, and a flash of light made its way towards the Tomb Robber's face. He reacted instinctively, and summoned a wall of shadows. The Millennium Ring glowed intensely as the shadow realm drank in the spell. The downside of this was that the initial surge of energy from the impact knocked his hood off. Seeing as he had already brought out the shadows, Bakura commanded them to swallow the man's stupid little stick as well. Of course, he couldn't do actual damage without instigating a dark game. The man gaped as his weapon was devoured before the offending shadows vanished entirely. His will seemed to dissipate with the loss of his wand, and he slumped even lower to the ground. With a parting sneer, Bakura dug into the man's filthy pockets, grabbed Ryou's money and left without a backwards glance. The whole fight had gone nearly unnoticed- apparently bloody disagreements were common in an alley usually populated by shady characters. Only one man seemed to have paid it any heed. Arthur Weasley stared pensively at the figure that walked away casually from the scene. He could have sworn he'd seen that white hair somewhere before, in fact, sometime that day, if he wasn't mistaken. And just where had a kid- for he was sure the mysterious winner of the brawl was no older than Harry- learned how to fight so well? The Weasley shook his head before rushing to see if the pile of dirty and now bloody rags was alright. Mundungus Fletcher was known to be a cowardly thief, and his skills were questionable. Usually, he disapparated at the slightest hint of danger. However, this time that was made impossible due to the fact that he was in contact with his tormentor the entire time(and so would have brought him along), as well as experiencing enough pain that it distracted him and made it hard to concentrate, so much that he ran the risk of splinching himself. Arthur sighed, realizing that he wasn't sure how to fix the other man. For now, he decided to take him to the headquarters of the order, which was where he was supposed to be anyways. After all, he had been charged with rounding up Fletcher and bringing him in time for the next meeting. However, once he had dropped the thief off, he returned to Knockturn Alley to learn more about the white haired kid.

Bakura's previous good mood, both at getting Set and at hurting someone, was quickly dissipating due to the pathetic complaints of his hikari over unnecessary violence. Finally, he decided that his inner child couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry Yadonushi." he said simply. Ryou was stopped dead in his tracks. Had he heard wrong? The spirit had _apologized_? Ryou had been expecting an angry retort, a snide comment on weakness, even a blackout. But he had certainly not been expecting this.

_"Alright then, what do you say to resuming the shopping trip?"_ Dark Bakura said, interrupting his host's spell of disbelief. He took them into the nearest shop, Borgin and Burkes.  
_  
"What is all this stuff? Cursed? Why would somebody buy a cursed object?"_

_"To curse someone else with, obviously. Look at this, a set of magical lock picks."_ Bakura was staring at said lock picks, which were hanging from a keychain.

_"I think you do just fine with ordinary lock picks, but I suppose you can get them if you want."_ Ryou said. The Thief King shook his head, however, as it would have been a personal insult to his ability if he used _magical_ lock picks. He maintained that it was the skill of the thief that mattered, not the quality of his tools (though tools helped). He gazed around the shop, his eyes lingering on this and that before looking out the window, straight at a red haired man who looked away guiltily.  
_  
"Figures, we were followed."_ Bakura self consciously pulled up his hood, which he had forgotten to put back on after it had been knocked off. That mistake had cost him.

_"Why don't you go outside? He might be a good person."_ Ryou suggested.  
_  
"Or he wants to arrest us."_ the Thief King pointed out.

_"You can take care of one police officer, can't you?"_

_"I thought you were complaining about violence just a couple of minutes ago. I will never understand you, Yadonushi."_ In truth, Bakura was also curious to know who had been following him, and why. So he walked out of the shop and straight towards the man, who was looking and acting more and more like a cornered mouse. The Tomb Robber took the fact that he was not being immediately pressed for charges or threatened with violence as a good sign, and decided that this was a job better suited for his hikari. The flash from the Ring as the spirit retreated was thankfully smothered under the black cloak. Ryou blinked a couple of times, disoriented, before opening his mouth.

"Who are you?" he inquired bluntly, deciding that this was a good course of action. Arthur Weasley squinted at the boy, who's glare had suddenly softened inexplicably and who's eyes he could have sworn changed to a lighter hue.

"I'm Arthur Weasley." he said simply. He had expected some sort of recognition of the name Weasley, but there was none.

"Why were you following me?" Ryou asked.

"I couldn't help but notice your fight back there..." Arthur began uncomfortably. The boy's eyes widened before his expression became curiously blank from the outside.

_"Yami! Someone did see us! This is all your fault, do you have to be so impulsive!"_ Ryou shouted through the door that lead to his yami's soul room.

_"Yadonushi, you can yell at me in person later! Get back out there before the man notices that you spaced out."_ The hikari sighed and did as his yami suggested, returning to his body and squirming under the Weasley man's scrutinizing gaze.

"I don't take kindly to thieves." Ryou said pointedly. His words carried a double meaning, and he could hear the spirit's insulted cry from down within the bowels of their shared mind. Of course, Arthur only caught the obvious reference and nodded.

"Why exactly are you doing in this place? It's not really suited for children." he told the boy before him _'-unless they're the children of dark wizards.'_ he added mentally.

"Oh, I was just exploring the place." Ryou replied sheepishly, and decided to go with the story his yami had told the Draco boy, which was largely true anyways. "I've been in Japan for a long time, and I just arrived back in England yesterday." Arthur Weasley seemed to find this an acceptable answer. However, he had something new on his mind.

"Japan? You've been missing out horribly on your magical education! We have to get you enrolled in Hogwarts right now. You must have never gotten your letter because you weren't a resident of Britain at the time!" he muttered, obviously flustered.

_"Yes or no, yami?"_

_"I thought you didn't like thieves? So why are you asking my opinion?"_

_"You know I didn't mean it, yami, and I'm sorry. Now yes or no?"_

_"Yes, but don't say so. We don't know if he's trustworthy, and you shouldn't just acquiesce to his demands." _Truthfully, Yami no Bakura's interest was piqued. A magical school... the concept of it was most intriguing.

"Oh no, I'm just fine! I don't want to cause you any trouble..." Ryou responded, trailing off.

"Oh, it won't be any trouble! You'll have to have a talk with Dumbledore and-" Arthur suddenly stopped, realizing that he would have to take the boy to the order headquarters if he was to help him. Then he slapped himself mentally for forgetting that he could just leave him at the Leaky Cauldron until Dumbledore was available.

"Yes?" Ryou prompted impatiently.

_"You fool, you're going about it all wrong. You're acting like you want to go, but don't want impose. That's not the point you're supposed to get across." _the Spirit of the Ring chastised.

_"If you're so good at it, why don't you do it?"_ Ryou snapped. The spirit did just that, snatching up control.

"Could you stay at the Leaky Cauldron for now? My family's a little bit tight on space at the moment." Mr. Weasley said. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't true either. Arthur decided that he'd have to make do. "Oh and I didn't catch your name."

"I'm Ryou Bakura, but everyone just calls me Bakura. I'm fine without this school of yours. I've _been_ fine without it for my whole life. And I have my own bloody house." Bakura informed him. Arthur looked a tad dismayed and surprised at the information, as well as the polite boy's sudden change in demeanor.

"The headmaster will also have to talk with your parents concerning-"

"My mother is dead and my father's away on some sort of expedition." the spirit snarled bluntly. Mr. Weasley shifted uncomfortably.

"Er, then could you give me your address? Like I said, the headmaster will have to speak to you."

_"What's the address, Yadonushi? I never paid attention."_ Ryou decided that the spirit wasn't really doing much better than he had been. He pushed back to the front and into control, forcing the grumbling spirit out of the way.

"Number 7 Privet Drive." Ryou informed the man. Arthur remembered that Harry lived somewhere on Privet Drive, which was in a muggle area, and was mildly surprised that this boy had a house on the same street. However, he didn't let his momentary reaction show and merely wrote the address down.

"Thank you. I have a meeting to go to now, and I probably shouldn't be late. But I'll tell Dumbledore about this, and he'll probably contact you." and with that, Arthur Weasley disappeared with a crack.

_"That was certainly very tactful." _Yami no Bakura sneered sarcastically. _"It just worked _so_ well. Now he'll be afraid to even come _near_ us!"_  
_  
"I don't think we could've refused him anyways. When the time comes, we'll deal with this Dumbledore person. We should go home now, its' getting dark."_

_"Dark means this place is probably going to be much more dangerous. Let me take over."_ They were switching places so often, it was making him dizzy. However, Ryou did as his yami suggested and relinquished control. Bakura stepped quietly and carefully, like a shadow. He made it out of Knockturn Alley without anymore trouble, pushed down the still crowded Diagon Alley, and finally passed through the Leaky Cauldron and back into the muggle part of London. He managed to hail a cab relatively quickly and made it back to Ryou's house as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the distant horizon. The Tomb Robber again picked his yadonushi's lock without bothering to look for a key and trudged inside, slamming the door behind him.

xxxxxx

The next couple of days passed largely uneventfully, as Ryou opted not to return to wizarding London and instead visited all the places he'd forgotten about during his stay in Japan. On the third evening, as he was going for a stroll, Bakura suddenly seized control of his body and began running down Wisteria Walk, back the way they had come.

_"Yami, what gives?" _Ryou asked, both miffed and worried at the actions of his dark.

_"The thief who stole your money last time. I'm positive."_ the Thief King replied tersely.

_"So why are you going after him? He hasn't stolen anything of ours."_

_"I want to know what he's doing here!"_ The Spirit snapped, irritated at his host's excessive questioning. However, he didn't get to find out, because there was a loud crack as they rounded the corner to Privet Drive, and Bakura knew that his quarry had just done a disappearing act, which he had learned that wizards tended to do quite often. He cursed before giving his host the body back and returning to his soul room. Ryou sighed and returned to his walk, heading for the play park on Magnolia Road. Once he reached the place, he vaulted the fence, climbed one of the trees, and sat idly, surveying the decidedly quotidian view.

_"I don't feel queasy anymore."_ Bakura said in his mind.

_"What do you mean? Since when have you been feeling queasy?"_ Ryou demanded.

_"I told you before, the wizard magic was making my connection to the shadow realm protest, and I've been feeling that way everywhere, which probably means that this place is riddled with wizards and witches. But now I suddenly don't feel sick anymore."_ the Spirit of the Ring explained.

_"Maybe you're just getting used to it."_ Ryou spotted someone coming towards the park. He was about to get off the tree to great them when a sudden wave of nausea washed over him, nearly causing him to fall out of his perch.

_"The feeling's back again."_ Bakura commented dryly.

_"I'd noticed."_ Ryou winced, clutching his stomach. If even he, with his abysmally lame shadow magic, could feel the pain, then he pitied the Spirit of the Ring, who was probably hundreds of times more powerful than he.

_"There's no doubt. That boy's a wizard, and he looks mad. I think it's making his magic flare."_ the spirit hissed.

_"Yami, will you be alright?"_

_"I'll be fine. It's a lot worse if you have a body."_

Ryou was about to go into his soul room to make sure the spirit was alright (he wasn't exactly sure why he cared), but that was before he caught sight of a group of boys on bikes. He recognized their leader, who lived across the street from him and was notorious for his bullying ways. They were crossing the park, no doubt on their way home, and Ryou had to give Bakura a mental kick to stop him from taking over and showing them up. He reminded the spirit that they were still suffering from the magic induced nausea, and that it wouldn't be a good idea to get into a fight just now.

_"What about if they go attack that kid down there?"_ the spirit asked, still trying to get his host's permission to beat someone up.

_"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. As it is, they haven't seen him. So you'd better repress those violent urges."_

The gang traversed the park without noticing the lone boy on the swing. Said boy stood up once they had gone a distance away and followed after them. The gang split up at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent, just as the boy reached the lone gang leader.

"Hey, Big D!" he shouted. Ryou could hear his voice even from the park, due to the fact that the night was utterly silent. Although he had chided his yami for trying to use the boy as an excuse, he did want to make sure that he wasn't hurt. So Ryou climbed down from the tree and ran towards Magnolia Crescent. He followed stealthily behind the two, who appeared to be exchanging mild insults. He was glad that they were heading for Wisteria Walk, meaning that he wasn't going anywhere he shouldn't.

The two boys seemed to become more hostile as they walked, which was no surprise, really. Trading insults tended to do that. Suddenly, the smaller boy pulled out a seemingly innocuous stick.

_"Yep, he's a wizard alright. And he's getting riled up. You better get ready to feel sick."_ the spirit warned. Ryou braced himself as the feeling his yami had predicted washed over him once more. The boys were now having a shouting match, and the wizard was waving his wand around dangerously. Just as Ryou thought he couldn't feel any worse, a terrible, tangible cold settled over the area. The night became black, a mass of unrelenting darkness, as if the very stars had been shut off. He curled up in a ball, vaguely registering the other two boys in the alleyway. The gang leader, who was called Dudley, was panicking, while the wizard apparently knew what was happening and did not like it. And then-

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT! DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER OU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

Ryou had no idea what was going on, but he knew that it was bad. Along with the atrocious sensation of being dunked in icy water, came a torrent of the worst memories of his life. Being who he was, unfortunately, he had plenty of those. He shivered in silent horror as the phone call, terribly real, came to tell him that his mother and sister were dead. He felt again the bewilderment and horrible _guilt_ as time and again he woke up to see his friends in irreversible comas, their souls trapped in grotesque dolls. His chest ached as the memories of the when the Ring had buried itself into his flesh resurfaced, and he cringed at the remembrance of that fateful game of Monster World. He was reliving the terrible pain in his hand, the only conscious part of him at the time, as it was jammed through that sharp, pointy tower. He felt the agony as he desperately sealed his soul into a pair of dice, and in the process of destroying them to save his friends, destroyed himself. To the forefront of his mind came the desolate half life he had lived as the White Wizard Monster World figurine, and the feeling as his soul drained from that lead playing piece back into his weakened body to resurrect him. And the list went on and on, and Ryou rocked back and forth, whimpering pitifully.

Bakura was panicked, frustrated, and completely bewildered as he was cut off from his host, who he knew was experiencing mental agony. He could not take over, and he could not see what was going on in the outside world. For the first time in years, the Spirit of the Ring felt utterly helpless, either to help himself or his yadonushi, whose continued existence was paramount if the body was to remain functional.

Harry Potter was desperately trying to cast his patronus, which was his last chance at getting out of this place with his soul intact. His first two tries yielded only nebulous mist, and he was nearly lost in the flood of his own worst memories, when the thought of his best friends brought him to the surface and a brilliant iridescent stag shot out of his wand tip, driving off the dementors. He directed it towards Dudley, who was on the verge of being kissed, and managed to knock the creature off just in time. As the last dementor was chased off, the stars came back into view, and the street lamps flickered back to life.

Bakura burst through the connection, like water through a broken dam, and stumbled in confusion as he gained control. Unfortunately, this caused him to step into the light, revealing his presence to the two teens. Dudley was in no shape to care, as he was still curled up on the ground, eyes wide with horror. But Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the albino. There was clanking from around the corner, and hurried footsteps.

Their neighbor from Wisteria Walk, Mrs. Figg, came around the corner, looking flustered and swinging her handbag, which was probably full of cat food, judging by the sound it made. Harry's first impulse was to stow his wand.

"Don't put it away, idiot boy! What if there are more of them around! Oh, I'm going to _kill_ Mundungus Fletcher..." she stopped when she caught sight of Bakura. "Oh yes you, Dumbledore wanted me to keep an eye on you too, said something about a new student?"

"You know about Dumbledore?" Harry blurted out.

"Why of course I do? Everyone who's anyone knows about Dumbledore!" Mrs. Figg replied.

"You're a witch?"

"Oh no, I'm a squib."

"I'm cold, tired, and this Ra damned body feels like it's been through hell and back. Could someone _please_ explain _what the bloody hell_ is going on?" Bakura demanded. Harry and Mrs. Figg turned to look at him, but didn't say anything. "Bloody wizards and their bloody magic are getting on my bloody damned nerves! I want to know what you bloody blooming maniacs did to my host _right now_!" The Spirit of the Ring realized that he had mentioned his host, and could only hope that no one had noticed. Fortunately, they were all staring at him in confusion at the moment.

"Well, I'm a wizard, and-"

"I bloody well know you're a wizard! I've been feeling sick for the past_ week_ from all this bloody magical disturbance, and it's _you_ who's been causing it!" Bakura shrieked.

"Er... those were dementors, and they suck all the hope and happiness out of you, making you relive your worst memories." Harry explained, wisely getting to the point. The Thief King paled at this. Ryou had a truckload of bad memories, and quite a few of those were his fault. He shifted guiltily. "-Also, if they kiss you, they will suck out your soul."

"We've both lost our souls bloody well enough times to not need it again!" Bakura muttered under his breath. He was too out of it to bother caring that he was saying this out loud. Mrs. Figg was busy fussing over him and Dudley, and so didn't hear. However, Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was he hearing things? _'Did that boy say we? They had lost their souls enough times? Who were they, and how had they lost their souls _multiple_ times?' _he wondered.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the albino boy walked over to a blubbering Dudley, waved Mrs. Figg away, and hefted the large boy seemingly effortlessly into a standing position, with his arm draped over his shoulder.

"Are you two bloody magicians going to come or not?" he snarled, walking away at an alarmingly fast pace for someone who was lugging a few hundred pounds of dead weight. Harry and Mrs. Figg followed after. Harry was questioning his squib neighbor, demanding to know why he was being followed and why Mrs. Figg never revealed her status to him.

When they reached Number 4, Privet Drive, the albino punched the doorbell impatiently. The door was thrown open and at the sight of her Diddykins, Petunia began wailing and fussing over him while Bakura sneered in disgust. Vernon Dursley rounded on the Thief King.

"What did you do to my son?" he demanded, before catching sight of Harry behind the other boy. "YOU! You were involved, weren't you?"

"I didn't bloody do anything. Your son's just too weak to stand up to some mental pain. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd say that my day was damn well worse than his, and I'll be going to bed now." With that, the Spirit of the Ring strode off, pointedly ignoring the fuming, purple faced man in the doorway. He crossed the street and jammed his lock pick into the keyhole, twirling it around until there was a satisfying click and the door swung open. He entered his yadonushi's house and slammed the door, shutting out his rude neighbor's tirade. As soon as he locked the door, he slumped to the floor, falling back into his soul room and throwing open the heavy door. His hikari's neat blue door was closed, but not locked, and Bakura pushed it open and walked tentatively inside. Ryou was curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth. The spirit snarled in anger at the damage the dementors had done. The shadows of his host's room, which had previously licked at the corners, had now made it halfway across the room. The Thief King ran towards his light and knocked him over, hugging him fiercely in a very un-Bakura like way. Ryou sniffed.

_"It was horrible, Yami." _Bakura held Ryou tighter.

_"I know, Ryou, I know. I'm here for you. All that stuff's behind us."_ Ryou hugged his yami back, savoring the comforting embrace. His dark had truly changed. He was there for his light, when before he distanced himself. He was protecting him like he was supposed to, and most of all he _cared_. He cared, and that was all Ryou needed. Never mind what he had done, that was in the past. It was what his yami was now that mattered. The shadows in his soul room receded, slowly but surely, and finally returned to wallow in the corners.

_"Thank you Yami."_ Ryou stood up. His face was still tear stained, but there was a look of determination in his eyes, a healthy spark. And Bakura knew that his hikari was truly alright.

xxxxxx

The next evening, the Dursleys, sans Harry, went out. A bunch of people on broomsticks arrived in front of Number 4, Privet Drive shortly afterwards. Bakura was spying on them through the window, in spirit form.

_"It looks like the wizard's got a ride. I think we should follow them." _he said to Ryou, who was sifting through his duel deck.

_"They're on brooms. How are we going to follow them?"_  
_  
"The Ring. Shadow Magic." _The spirit did not elaborate, but Ryou understood.

_"Fine, let me pack some stuff."_ Ryou shoved his deck into his pocket and ran around the house, collecting clothes and Yami no Bakura's knives. He dumped these haphazardly into a backpack before rushing off to the kitchen to throw together some sandwiches- peanut butter and jelly for himself, and meat for the spirit. Although they shared the same body, they did not share the same tastes, and he did not want to offend his dark by packing only for himself. Ryou neatly sealed the sandwiches into zipping plastic bags before dropping them into the pack.

"Done!" he said aloud.

_"Perfect timing, they're leaving just now."_ The spirit vanished into the Ring before taking over Ryou's body. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a card without looking. "Diabound Colonel, arise!" he said, and sure enough, his ka monster appeared before him. Bakura hopped onto Diabound's back and the monster phased out of the door, stealthily blending in with the night in the process.

"Ring, find Harry Potter." the Thief King commanded. The Ring lit up and pointed south and upwards. Diabound launched into the air, following the tacit directions of his master. The ring's pointers wiggled around every once in awhile, signaling a change of course. The Tomb Robber had to commend these wizards- they would be hard to follow if one was simply flying after them. Of course, Bakura had the obvious tracking advantage of the Ring, which could find them no matter where they were. The air around them was frigid, and it was a little difficult to breathe. Fortunately, they had not passed through any clouds. Even Dark Bakura, with his high tolerance for discomfort, did not relish the thought of being soaked at this speed and altitude.

Presently, the Millennium Ring's tines moved again, sloping downwards. The spirit's quarry was getting ready to land. Diabound headed for the ground, lighting down at the outskirts of a shabby town before vanishing. The Spirit of the Ring was stiff and cold, but he continued on, following the Ring's directions on foot, winding his way through countless dingy alleyways(and thawing out in the process) before emerging at the end of Grimmauld Place. He felt a wave of sickness wash over him. There was definitely wizard magic around. Presently, the Ring pointed down the lane, leading its master to the middle of the street and swerving to point at the place in between number eleven and number thirteen. Apparently, there was no number twelve. The Thief King walked through the gap, but as he emerged on the other side, the Ring immediately swerved to point in the direction he had just come from.  
_  
"Is it malfunctioning or something?"_ Ryou inquired.

_"It's a Millennium Item. Millennium Item's don't _malfunction_. Harry Potter is somewhere in between eleven and thirteen Grimmauld Place. In fact, don't you think it's odd that the numbering skips number twelve? In fact, I seriously doubt that such a mistake was made. I think number twelve Grimmauld Place is simply _hidden_."_ Yami no Bakura snarled. "And I think that's where these wizards are camping out."

_"Well if it's hidden, how do we get in?"_

_"I have no idea whatsoever."_ the spirit said bluntly.

_"You're a thief, aren't you?"_ Ryou questioned pointedly.

_"Yes, yes, give me a minute, Ryou." _Bakura walked back out of the gap and glanced back and forth between numbers eleven and thirteen, contemplating. This was unlike anything he'd ever faced before, and he'd faced quite a few puzzling traps and tricks in his tomb robbing career. How could he break into something that wasn't there? _'No, it's _there_. I just can't see it. Or touch it. And it doesn't seem to take up space...'_ This thought gave him only slightly more confidence as he set about scrutinizing the area. His first task would have to be getting the place to show itself. But he didn't even know what was causing it to be there but not there! He didn't know if the enchantment was cast on the house itself, on a controlling person, or both.

It was frustrating, to say the least. He had followed the wizards all the way here, yet now he was stuck glaring at a gap where something was supposed to be. He couldn't be sure what kind of spell was on the house, but he knew it was a complicated one. In fact, he suspected that only those who had been invited in could see and enter the place. There was still one glitch in that theory- or perhaps it was his way in. The area between numbers eleven and thirteen was barely spacious enough for a trash can, much less another house. That meant the actual house had been moved, and probably wasn't even there. It was only the entrance that lay in Grimmauld Place. But if it was the entrance, then the house would have to appear for the people who could enter. And if it had to do that, then other people, at least magical people, should be able to see it as well.

Still, Bakura was growing impatient. It would not do to wait for someone to show up and go in to test his theory. No, that wouldn't be prudent at all! And if it didn't work, he would be back to square one. He growled, almost at his wits' end. Perhaps he had been wrong... maybe there wasn't a Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place after all.

xxxxxx

**EDIT**

10/3/09- Problems with italics were fixed. Awkward wordings also patched up.


	2. Why Does This Sound Familiar?

Author Notes: I surprisingly forgot to mention this last time, but this is set during OotP in the Harry Potter universe. I suppose you could tell, by the people picking Harry up, but it's good to mention. Also, I could never figure out why none of the muggles living on privet drive ever noticed a troupe of weirdos on flying broomsticks leave their street. I guess they were all asleep or something...

Okay, no more random Japanese besides the aforementioned in this chapter. :D

Thanks and cupcakes for all who reviewed or added my story to favorites/alerts for being so damn awesome! Because you did review, and I also do feel like continuing this, you get another chapter!

To Umo: Thanks for reviewing, and giving me so much feedback and good concrit! I need to clarify. It's not that Harry makes them sick, it's Harry feeling anger, and he was angry and frustrated at the Dursleys and the lack of information. So I'd say it's more like powerful wizard+a lot of negative emotion that causes the nausea. Also, being hit with wizard magic does that as well. Then again, as Hogwarts is a school, I suppose there'd be lots of that, and they'll need to think of something. Well, they won't be at Hogwarts for another few chapters, so I have time to brainstorm.

And I know, I screwed Yami no Bakura up, but I decided to roll with it because I've already written too much. My reasoning for Bakura caring about what happens to Ryou comes from his short recollection of the times before they moved to Domino. Bakura protected Ryou in his own weird way by sealing his playmates in dolls, because he knew that his host was being manipulated. After he met Yugi however, I think he was consumed with Zorc's desire to get rid of the Pharaoh, which overrode all else. Now that he can't get to the Pharaoh, he's back to 'normal.' And yes, I am pretty sure that Ryou's father is actually alive, because if he was dead he'd be lumped in with the mother and sister, when he's just not mentioned. I'll have to reread that part to make sure.

Harry was really stressed out from the dementor attack. He may or may not have thought that he'd heard Bakura wrong, and even if he was sure it was what he'd heard, he had a couple of hectic days to forget about it. It will be important in the future, as it is one of many things that will fuel Harry's later suspicion, but as of now, he'll have forgotten about it. Harry tends to think the best of the people he meets, and only jumps to conclusions regarding the people he despises, such as Draco Malfoy.

Disclaimer: Kazuki Takahashi owns Yu-Gi-Oh, while J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. Neither of them happen to be me.

"Speech"  
_"Telepathy"  
'Thoughts'  
_**(Footnote Number)**

Also, I use ( - ) a hyphen instead of the double dash thing because my computer is evil, and refuses to format it into a long dash. So just pretend it's a dash and be cool with it, kay? ^^ Please attempt to enjoy the chapter!

xxxxxx

Yami no Bakura's theory would have been proved mostly correct had anyone else walked up in the conventional manner from outside. As it was, all the other order members arrived by way of apparation, onto the doorstep where the irate spirit outside could not see them. None of them looked back, so no one really paid any notice to the albino boy who appeared to be watching them.

After the meeting, most of the Order members were gathered in the front hall, some fidgeting uncomfortably, some impatient to return to their families, and some discussing the evening's topics under their breaths. Severus Snape buttoned his cloak and threw open the door. He wanted to be out of the accursed house as soon as possible. However, as he stepped outside, the lone figure standing just outside the light of the nearest streetlamp caught his eye. If he was not mistaken, the hair of said figure was a silvery white, gleaming in the moonlight. Calculating, reddish-brown eyes stared unblinkingly at the very place where he stood. Snape scowled. Obviously, this boy was aware that there was something there, but wasn't sure how to find it. He turned around, leveling his dissatisfied glare on the crowd behind him. Everyone stilled.

"Someone's out there." he hissed, gesturing. The congregated Order members broke out into hushed whispers. Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes. These people acted like schoolchildren. Molly Weasly emerged from the kitchen, clearly surprised that everyone was still there. She looked past the other members towards Snape, who jerked his head, directing her gaze outside.

"Severus, who is that?" she inquired.

"Do I look like I know? Perhaps he's that delinquent Arthur met a few days ago." Snape sneered. Molly hurried back into the kitchen and returned, dragging her husband with her. The man gasped, a look of recognition on his face as he caught sight of the strange white haired boy.

"That's him alright. How'd he get here though?" he muttered in confusion.

"Perhaps Potter and his escort were followed. Didn't you mention that the boy lived near him?" Snape drawled, crossing his arms.

"What do we do?" Molly asked worriedly, glancing between her husband and the menacing figure of Severus Snape. By then, some of the other Order members had lost interest and were already apparating away, more eager to return home than to find out who the person outside was.

"How could he have followed Harry? He wasn't supposed to have had any magical education! He was in Japan!" Arthur wailed. It just didn't add up. Yet, there he was, the eldritch albino boy named Baruka, or whatever it was, was standing there, apparently searching for the house that he couldn't see.

"He looks no older than Harry! We have to let him in!" Molly cried, her maternal instincts kicking in. Where the others saw a potentially dangerous stranger, she saw only a painfully thin child.

"Even if we did trust him, it'd be impossible. Albus is the secret keeper. Only he can reveal the location." Snape said curtly. Molly seemed to deflate, shrinking dejectedly. She knew that what Severus had said was completely true. There was nothing they could do.

xxxxxx

Albus Dumbledore had many things to do, but he had never thought of himself as a busy man. Busy men were those who sat at their desks all day, desperately working their way through prodigal, endless mounds of dry paperwork. Busy men attended meetings every hour of the day, yet still had to cram a couple more into their impossible schedules. And finally, busy men could never enjoy the luxury of contemplating the world.

Because Albus Dumbledore was not a busy man, he had the time to personally see to the strange, white haired boy who had never attended school. He had time to go convince the recalcitrant teen that Hogwarts was the best place for him. He even had time to stop by the muggle sweetshop nearby to replenish his diminishing supply of lemon drops. As he strolled down the familiar well kempt**(1)** surroundings of Privet Drive, he was relaxed and leisurely, appearing for all the world like some kindly old grandfather out for an evening walk.

He ambled up the driveway of Number 7, which was just across the street from where the Dursleys resided. The aged wizard pressed the doorbell and waited. When, after a minute, there was no answer, Albus Dumbledore decided that the boy wasn't home. Being as old and powerful as he was, he had over time acquired a sort of 'sixth sense' for magical auras. And he detected no such thing within the house. Since the man wasn't particularly fond of standing outside in the cold, he tapped the door with his wand to open it, invited himself inside, and was ready to plop down onto the couch to await the owner's return, before he noticed something off.

Some of the things on the shelves were skewed, as if they had been hurriedly pushed around. Books and clothes were littered on the ground, along with a long, curved knife. The average man would have assumed that the boy had not finished unpacking from his journey, but Albus Dumbledore was no average man. He was under the impression that the mess was not the remnant of unpacking, but of _packing_. It was as if the owner had been in a rush to leave. The headmaster turned and headed into the kitchen. The mess sprawled upon the counter strengthened his suspicious.

Half a sliced loaf of bread was spilling out of a plastic bag onto the table. Crumbs littered the surface of the counter, and a box of zipping plastic pouches lay haphazardly on its side, dangling off the edge. A jar of peanut butter and another, larger one of grape jelly sat next to the box, and a sticky, jam coated butter knife lay beside them. Dumbledore was almost positive that the boy had gone off in a hurry. He was also fairly sure of the reason for it. And Albus Dumbledore prided himself in being rarely incorrect with his guesses.

So, following good logic, he disappeared with a loud crack.

xxxxxx

Bakura's legs were getting terribly stiff. He sighed, closed his eyes before opening them again slowly, and, seeing no change, resignedly sat down on the ground. His stomach growled. When he had been in control of Ryou's body during Battle City, he hadn't really bothered to eat anything. However, since then, he seemed to have become more in tune with the body, more aware of its physical needs and limitations. So the spirit swung the pack off his back and into his lap with a clunk and opened the main compartment. Pulling out the first plastic bag, which contained his preferred sandwich, he unzipped the pouch delicately and pulled out the prize within.

Yami no Bakura dug absently into his portable meal, still glancing up idly every once in awhile to see if anything new had appeared. He had to admit that the food wasn't half bad, although it had been thrown together at a moment's notice. The sandwich filled him up and warmed him, and now he felt it harder to concentrate on his quarry. He continued to find himself distracted by the glimmering stars, the piles of detritus that made grotesque, dancing shapes in the artificial lighting, or the muffled music drifting from a stereo that was pounding away in a nearby house.

The hazy, pooling orange glow cast by the nearby lamp was calm and anodyne, slowly lulling him into a dazed stupor. The body's fatigue from traveling unprotected at a high altitude and standing in one place for hours was beginning to make itself known, demanding that Bakura let it rest with his host, Ryou, who had long ago drifted off in the comfortable warmth of his soul room.

The spirit had to admit that he was bored out of his mind. Would it be so bad to just slip off into the clutches of sleep and attempt to find the house the next morning? His instincts protested, telling him that it was unsafe just to drift off by a shabby roadside, where there could be unsavory people around every corner, but his body ached to collapse into unconsciousness. However, Bakura was snapped out of his trance-like torpor when he heard a loud crack from behind him.

The Tomb Robber was on his feet in an instant, one hand already clutching a sharpened blade and the other reaching for his duel deck. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the calm old man who stood before him with a benign smile. The only way someone could remain so completely relaxed before a knife wielding potential psychopath was if they _knew_ they would have the upper hand in a fight. The old man's eyes twinkled with mirth, eliciting a growl from the spirit's throat. He felt his host stirring within his mind.

_"Hnn, yami, what's-"_ Ryou stopped when he saw for himself.

"What do you want?" Yami no Bakura hissed, his left hand resting on his deck and ready to draw at a moment's notice. The knife was only a distraction, although it was a potent enough weapon on its own.

"You are Ryou Bakura?" the man inquired calmly, smiling. Bakura narrowed his eyes further before giving a curt nod. "I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. I need to speak with you."

Dumbledore... Yes, that was the name the red-haired man, Arthur, had mentioned. Still, the spirit wasn't foolish enough to trust so blindly. Besides, the man- if he was who he claimed to be- was undoubtedly here to brag about his school and get him to attend. Although the spirit had found the idea of a magic school _interesting_ and _intriguing_, it most definitely did not mean that he _wanted to go._ No, after he had thought about it for awhile, he realized that going to school was an absolute waste of time, as well as a bad idea, for if being around a couple of temperamental wizards caused him to be sick, he didn't want to know what being in a school full of these magicians, some of which were bound to get angry once in awhile, would do to him. But, as of now, he was only worried about what was presently occurring, and at the moment there was an old man who insisted he was the headmaster of a school standing before him.

"And where is the proof that you are truly Dumbledore?" Bakura snarled. The blade flashed in the moonlight as he tilted it, trying and failing to distract the man before him. He was most astute, for he seemed to be ignoring the weapon completely and looking straight at where the spirit's left hand rested, on a compartment on his belt.

"Well, there isn't any." the man who claimed he was Dumbledore said, pursing his lips, although Bakura could tell he wasn't really thinking. "Why don't we go inside _Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place_." The spirit felt a surge of magic from the last words shoot straight through him. He nearly doubled over in pain- it was extremely strong. If someone who had some affiliation with Dumbledore was in the wizard's hideout that he knew had just appeared behind him, and this man had the power to reveal the location, then he was truly who he said he was.

"Alright Mr. Dumbledore, let's." He slowly pulled his left hand away from his deck holder and left it dangling at his side, but he kept the knife out, just in case. Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging the temporary trust. Together, they walked up to the front door. The headmaster pulled out his wand and tapped the door. The sound of numerous bolts and chains being undone greeted Bakura's ears. He wondered why they needed all those locks if a tap of the wand could undo them _all_. Then again, there was particularly strong warding around the house anyways, and it probably didn't need a real lock.

_"Wow, this place is positively _derelect_."_ Ryou muttered. The spirit had to admit that he was thinking along the same lines. Half of the tombs he had robbed back then had looked cleaner and shiner than this.

The entrance hall looked like it had been taken from a mock 'haunted house.' Cobwebs hung from a broken chandelier, and the wallpaper was tattered and peeling. The carpet was worn and threadbare, and looked like it could use a good cleaning. Ancient gas lamps lined the walls, filled with eerily flickering flames.

"As you can see, it needs some work." Dumbledore murmured jokingly. Bakura snorted. Suddenly, a large colorful blur flew out of the kitchen and assaulted him.

"Oh I don't believe it, you've been out there half the night! If Albus hadn't come... You need to eat something, look at how _thin_ you are! And you hair-" all this was whispered, _loudly_, by a portly woman with flaming red hair. The spirit assumed she was related in some way to Arthur Weasley. He brushed her off roughly.

"I'm fine, woman. Just get me a bed or something." Bakura snapped. "Please." he added to appease Ryou, who had just given him a mental jab. The woman looked a little miffed, but her smile returned a second later and she ushered him towards the staircase.

"Molly, wait. I need to speak with him." Dumbledore interjected. The woman looked back at him disapprovingly. "It can't wait." he added.

_"Oh yes, it most _definitely_ can't wait! Talking about how great his school is is just _so_ important!" _Bakura fumed sarcastically. Ryou chuckled.

_"Come on, we might learn something new. You're not _that_ tired, are you?"_

"Fine, then talk." the spirit said aloud, waiting expectantly.

"You are aware that you are a wizard." Dumbledore began.

"Yes I am." was the reply. _"I am aware that you are a bumbling old fool, and that I am _not_ a wizard!"_ Bakura snarled in his head. Ryou choked on his laughter.

"Well, your education was supposed to have begun many years ago. You need to learn to control your magic, you need to learn how to channel it to do useful things instead of letting it go haywire. I suppose your arrival here was due to an accidental bout of magic, due to your curiosity about Harry. Your magic must be much stronger because you are older."

_"Silly man, thinks his magic is the only thing in the world. No one can _accidentally_ tail a bunch of people who obviously did not wish to be followed."_ What the spirit actually said was, "Oh yes, I suppose."

"If you came to Hogwarts, we could teach you to harness that magic-" he was cut off by Bakura.

"I'm not interested." he said bluntly. Dumbledore did not falter.

"You don't seem to understand. There are underage magic restrictions, and if you don't learn to control your magic, you won't be allowed to use it at all."

"I don't care." Bakura drawled, waving his warning aside. _"So now he's threatening me. The nerve of him! It's not as if I haven't done any shadow magic at all here! There haven't been magical police knocking at my door!"_

By then, Ryou had gotten bored and returned to sleep, leaving his yami to sort everything out as he pleased. 

_"Hypocrite."_ the spirit muttered. _"You're the one sleeping."_

xxxxxx

There was a loud crack and Fred and George appeared in the dark room. They each moved to one of the beds and prodded their respective occupants awake.

"Mmph, ow, is it morning already?" Harry muttered, still in a sleepy daze. Ron let out a long snore.

"Quick, get up. Dumbledore's talking to someone downstairs, just out in the hall." Harry felt wide awake at the mention of Dumbledore. He was certainly still infuriated that the man had given explicit instructions to everyone not to tell him anything _important_. By then, Ron had finally been woken from his deep sleep when Fred dumped him on the ground.

"Ow! Why you little-"

"Big, little brother." Fred corrected.

"-git!" he snarled, his face buried uncomfortably in the musty old carpet. His brother informed him of what was going on. All four boys crept out the bedroom door. George held a long piece of flesh colored string, and was currently unwinding it. A sleepy Ginny stood at the top of the stairs, blocking their way.

"Where're you guys going?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes.

"Sod off, Ginny." Ron muttered rudely. She stuck her tongue out in response.

"Let her listen. Look down there, Dumbledore's talking with some white haired kid." George lowered the string and they all crowded around the top end, listening closely.

"-What do you not understand about the sentence, _I don't care?_ I don't care if your bumbling ministry has stupid restrictions. I don't care if there's a Dark Lord out to get you, it's _not my problem._ I've had my share of psychopathic maniacs!" the strange boy, who Harry recognized from the Dementor attack, snarled. He was doing a remarkable job of keeping his calm demeanor when he was so obviously enraged.

"Guys, that's my neighbor. He just moved in across the street from me!" Harry whispered to the others. They shot him strange looks. "He was there when the Dementors attacked me too." Fred nodded, but then gestured towards the string. They all paid it full attention once more.

"-And you are content with living as a squib, with no magic?" Dumbledore questioned the boy.

"I'm sorry. You seem under the impression that muggles are helpless cavemen. Let me inform you of the real world. While you wizards fly on broomsticks, cold and uncomfortable, muggles travel in warm, pressure controlled planes that fly hundreds of times faster and are hundreds of times more comfortable. While you rely on _owls_ to send communication, muggles have developed the internet and email, sending messages in the blink of an eye. While you _wizards_ live in terror of the Avada Kedavra, a pitiful spell that can only kill _one person at a time_, muggles have developed weapons that wipe out millions in one go. And finally, let me give you an demonstration of muggle technology."

The group of eavesdroppers looked on in awe. This kid had just mocked the Avada Kedavra. And could muggles really do such things? They watched the boy. He opened his pack and pulled out a strange, many paneled contraption, which he strapped on his wrist. He pressed a button, and the panels swept around and joined together. Its lights flashed on and glowed expectantly. Two winged white things shot out from the side and landed on either end of the room.

"This is a duel disk. It is a blatant, vaunting display of technological power. I'll play it for a couple of turns." the boy said.

"I don't get it. What's so special about that thing?" Ron demanded. Everyone shrugged. "And besides, doesn't muggle technology not work in magical places?"

"Don't be stupid, Ron. This location may be unplottable, and the house may contain magical artifacts, but the house itself is perfectly ordinary, and therefore can support electronics. Hogwarts is different because it's so saturated with magic that it's practically _made_ of it! There's magic in every corner. It would swamp anything nonmagical and interfere with the circuits." Hermione had appeared behind them without their noticing. However, they all looked back down when they heard a loud declaration from the boy.

"I summon the Headless Knight!" he half shouted, slapping a card on one of the panels. Something began materializing in the room. A knight, wearing gleaming armor and wielding a huge sword appeared. There was only one thing missing: its head. The watchers all stepped back.

"I-Is that a hologram?" Hermione whispered, eyes widening.

The uninvited commentary from above was grating on his nerves. Bakura turned and glared at them, scowling. These people were horrible at being sneaky.

"Very astute, it is a hologram." he sneered. The girl who had asked squeaked in surprise. "Why don't you all just come down here and watch my next demonstration up close?" He turned back to the disk. "And now, goodbye, my Headless Knight," as he said this, he removed the card, and the hologram appeared to be sucked up into a vortex. "-because I sacrifice you to bring out Earl of Demise! Now, rise up, Earl of Demise. He threw down a different card. Out of that same vortex appeared a grotesque humanoid with an eye patch, decked in fine clothes and wielding a sharply pointed rapier.

"Wow, that's really realistic." Hermione said in a small voice. Bakura smirked. His smirk dropped into a yawn, and he suddenly felt extremely tired.

"Well, that was fun. I think I'll be going up to bed now." He then switched off the device, and the monster promptly vanished. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off. "No. You can forget about it, I decline your offer." Bakura replied, trudging up the stairs and past the other people without sparing them a glance. The duel disk was still strapped to his arm. Mrs. Weasley appeared seemingly out of nowhere and directed him to his room before rounding on everyone else.

"I thought I told you to go to bed! You have no right to be up at this hour, _eavesdropping_ on other people's conversations! You-" The rest of her tirade became increasingly incoherent, so they simply trembled under her incensed gaze and waited for her to finish fuming. It took quite awhile. When she had finally finished, she pointed up the stairs with a scowl on her face. Relieved, they hurried upstairs to their respective bedrooms and really went to sleep this time.

xxxxxx

By the next morning, Dumbledore had gone. When Harry and Ron finally got out of bed and made it to the kitchen, they found Hermione already in avid discussion with the albino boy.

"-so they created all that advanced technology for a _card game?_" she voiced in disbelief. The boy nodded, taking a bite of toast. From the enormous mass of food on his plate, Harry inferred that Mrs. Weasley had decided that he was too thin. Both of the teens seated at the table looked up at the two new arrivals. Ryou stood up and bowed.

"Hello, I'm Ryou Bakura, but you can just call me Bakura." he said. Harry thought he seemed different, shyer and more polite than the outspoken boy who had been arguing with Dumbledore the night before or the outright rude teen who had yelled profanities at everyone and dumped Dudley at the Dursleys' doorstep on the evening of the dementor attack. However, he attributed those occurrences to mental stress and anger. Now that _Dumbledore_ had left, he seemed an amicable enough person.

"I'm Harry Potter." Harry said, holding out his hand. Ryou shook it.

"And I'm Ron Weasley." Ryou beamed at him.

"I met your father not too long ago." he said, smiling and shaking Ron's hand as well.

"What? Dad never told me!" Ron protested.

"Yes, he met me in Knockturn Alley." Ryou said. Everyone froze and stared at him after this pronouncement.

"What were you doing in Knockturn Alley?" Harry inquired suspiciously.

"I, well-"

_"Yadonushi, it's obvious they associate that place with bad things."_ the spirit told him.

"-I kind of got lost." Ryou finished, giving them a sheepish smile. The tension lifted. Harry remembered that he'd gotten lost there once too, when he had first used floo powder.

"Oh, so Dad helped you find your way out?" Ron asked.

"Er, yeah." Ryou felt a twinge of guilt settle in his chest. He had never liked outright lying.**(2)**

_"Oh toughen up, Landlord. Everyone has to lie once in awhile. We can't look suspicious."_

_"Yes, I suppose."_ It didn't really help Ryou feel any better.

"So what were you saying about that card game- Duel Monsters, was it?" Hermione prodded Ryou back to their previous conversation. He brightened up.

"Oh yes, Duel Monsters is really popular in Japan. I was one of the finalists in the last big tournament." He said. Of course, he neglected to mention that it was actually the Spirit of the Millennum Ring with his body who had been the real finalist.

"Who won?"

"My friend, Yuugi Mutou. It was expected, he's the King of Games, after all. He always wins."

_"More like the King of Idiots." _Yami no Bakura muttered. Ryou shushed him.

"King of Games?" Hermione seemed confused.

"It's a title he received after he defeated the creator of Duel Monsters." Ryou explained. Hermione gaped.

"He defeated the person who _invented_ the game? Wow! You said the game was strategic. How does it work?"

Ryou pulled out his deck and placed it on the table. He flipped the top card over. It was The Portrait's Secret.

"This is a basic monster card. It has attack points and defense points, and as the concept suggests, you can use it to attack or defend. The real fun in the game comes from magic and trap cards like these," he flipped over another card, revealing Ectoplasmer, "-which can turn the tide of a duel with their effects. These cards keep you guessing. You never know if attacking will make you the victor or if it will lead you into a death trap." Hermione nodded.

"It sounds interesting."

"It is, and it's much more fun with the duel disks, which bring the monsters and the card effects to life."

"I never knew muggles had such advanced technology." Ron interjected. Ryou shot him a dirty look, and his features seemed to become sharper. In actuality, the spirit had taken over his host's body.

"That's because you wizards are the real cavemen. You're holed up in your little magical world, feeling all superior, always overlooking the developments blossoming around you." he snapped. Ron looked taken aback, and turned back to his breakfast. Ryou snatched back control.

"What I mean is, magic is useful, but not everything. Wizards need to open their eyes." he clarified, hoping to abate the tension. _"Who was the one going on about not being suspicious? You have to act like me! From what I've heard, you were great at that during Battle City, so why not now?"_

_"I know, Yadonushi, I know. I suppose I'll _try _and be more careful."_

"Yeah, some wizards more than others. Speaking of which, has the there been any activity?" Harry asked, gesturing over to the Daily Prophet that Hermione was currently scanning as she ate.

"Nothing new. But even if there was, I doubt they'd report it. They didn't report the dementors, did they? And that was big." she told them.

"You mean the things that attacked us a couple of days go?" Ryou inquired. Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded in unison. "Why didn't they report it? Is it supposed to be common?"

"They don't report it because they're all blind gits in the Ministry's employ. They're trying to keep everything hushed up." Harry snarled.

"But why would they want to do that?" Ryou asked, taken aback.

"They're trying to make it seem like everything is alright. But in actuality, Voldemort-" Ron cringed at this, "-has returned, and everyone's in danger."

_"Voldemort's the insane sociopath that Dumbledore was telling me about yesterday. For some reason, he reminds me of Yami no Marik, except with less of an excuse to be crazy." _the Spirit of the Ring explained.

"Oh." Ryou said, both in reply to Harry and to the spirit.

"You don't think I'm crazy? Everyone else thinks I've just been making it all up for attention." Harry informed him.

"No, not really. What do you mean he's returned? Did he leave and come back or something?" Ryou asked. They stared at him in disbelief.

"You don't know?" they demanded in unison. Ryou shook his head.

"I've been in Japan, away from the magical world." he said by way of explanation.

xxxxxx

The next two hours were devoted to retelling Harry's life. Of course, some things, like the ritual in the graveyard, were mentioned but mostly skipped over, but otherwise it was a fairly complete tale. Fred and George had entered and sat down on either side of Ryou, adding in their bits of information as well. By the time they had finished, the other occupants of the house, namely Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, had come and gone. Needless to say, the albino's head was spinning with all the new information, most of which he had yet to process.

"Well, we've told you about us, what about you, Bakura?" Suddenly, the spirit took control and pushed Ryou down. He concentrated on retaining the innocent look and the softer voice of his host.

_"Yami, what-"_

_"You're a terrible liar. I don't want you letting _anything_ slip that may lead them to suspect us."_

_"Oh, right..."_

"Well, I started moving around when I was eight, after my mother and sister died in a car crash. My father was an archaeologist, and since I was too young to take care of myself, he brought me along with him. When I was fourteen I moved to Japan by myself, and later I got interested in Duel Monsters. I go to the same school as Yuugi Mutou, you see." the spirit said. He hadn't even lied yet, only neglected to include some very important information, namely the Ring, the'comas' that his host's playmates had fallen into and all the psychopaths Ryou'd met- himself included.

"Yeah, but aren't you coming to Hogwarts now?" Ron asked. Bakura shook his head, trying not to let his annoyance at how expectant the boy sounded show.

"No, I'm not going. I have to return to Japan at the end of the month." he replied. Ron's face fell, but it was Hermione who spoke.

"But you're missing out on your magical education!" she exclaimed. The spirit grimaced.

"Like I told Dumbledore, I don't care." he stated. She looked horrified. Bakura deduced that this girl was a very studious and logical person. He came up with the perfect lie. "I'm sixteen. How hard would it be for me to catch up all the way to my year level, take the exams, and graduate? I would be much better off in the muggle world, especially in Japan." he said smoothly. Hermione looked stricken, unsure of what to say. Her brain was working on overdrive, going in circles. It was true, what Bakura had said. Especially with the current animosity towards _different_ in the wizarding world, he would have a terrible time fitting in and getting a job even after he graduated. if he entered Hogwarts late, that would certainly be classified as different, and he'd be shunned, as well as swamped in coursework. On the other hand, if he lived as a muggle, he would be wasting his talents as a wizard, living normally like everyone else... It was dilemma that not even she could find a compromise for.

Yami no Bakura fought the urge to smirk at the pained expression on Hermione's face. Now that he'd gotten these people off of his case, he only needed to get it through Dumbledore's thick skull that he wasn't interested. His thoughts drifted back to the disturbing things he'd been told about the wizarding world. Harry Potter's life seemed uncannily like Yugi's, with all the unwanted responsibility and heroism. He even had the friendship cheerleaders and fame to go along with it. Voldemort sounded like him or Marik at one point. Dumbledore was like Shaadi, apparently outside of destiny and annoyingly sure of his own rightness.

So actually, those were not the disturbing things, because he was used to them. What perturbed him the most was the Ministry of Magic and its minister. How close minded they were, yet how much influence they still held. Now that he'd heard Harry's story, he knew that this hidden world of wizards was much more perilous than it appeared, not because of its magic, but because of its jiggling and convoluted politics. He knew that both he and his host would be in danger if their secrets were discovered.

_"We cannot tell them anything. These people especially like to destroy what they don't understand. And the longer we remain here, the more likely our secrets will be discovered."_

xxxxxx

Footnotes:

1. Spell-check says that kempt isn't a word. Internet dictionary says it is. I believe internet, so ha.  
2. So I assume, since he's the light and all.


	3. A Comparison of Dark Lords

A/N: This story's been really fun to write! Add that to all the nice reviewers and my friends' urging, and I just have to write! Thank you all again for reading and reviewing!

To Elaendorlien: Thank you for reviewing! There have been so many varying opinions on whether or not Bakura is OOC; I'm a bit unsure what to think. Obviously, the only person who could write him in character would be Kazuki Takahashi himself, so it would be more like how close he is to being in character, rather than whether or not he is. It would also depend on the time period, I suppose, and this is set between Battle City and Memory World. I agree that Ryou and Yami no Bakura are interesting characters and are fun to write about.

To Just a fan: I'm glad you enjoyed the story and that you took the time to say so! Actually, with so many people on story alert, I would hate to write short chapters, because in the end they'd be reading the same content, except with their inboxes full of alert spam. Bakura just never seemed to be the 'school' type of person to me anyways, and with his growing dislike for the wizarding world's ways, he's bound to refuse Hogwarts, right? As for if this is going to be a Bakura VS Ministry thing, you have to remember that there are other forces out there, including Voldemort and perhaps even the Order. None of these forces are really on each other's sides, so I suppose you'll just have to watch it all play out. Don't worry, this won't be going on hiatus anytime soon, or perhaps at all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter! The esteemed Mr. Kazuki Takahashi owns Yu-Gi-Oh, while the lovely J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter (that sounds weird...).

"Speech"  
_"Telepathy"  
'Thoughts'  
__**"Parseltongue"**_  
**(Footnote Number)**

And without further ado, the chapter.

xxxxxx

Severus Snape did not trust easily. Severus Snape was an intelligent man, and did not trust everything that came out of Dumbledore's mouth. And finally, Severus Snape did not trust Ryou Bakura. Not one bit.

This was why Severus Snape was currently pacing back and forth in his office, black cloak billowing out dramatically behind him (although it could never _hope_ to match Kaiba's trench coat in _that_ department), wracking his brains trying to figure out how the boy had gotten to Order Headquarters. It was most definitely not _accidental magic_ as Dumbledore claimed, and the fact that Bakura had even nodded yes to that suggestion screamed 'LIAR' to the potions master.

An ordinary wizard might have jumped to the conclusion that the boy was working for Voldemort, but that was not an option for one Severus Snape. As he was in the inner circle of the Dark Lord, he would have been told if a new member had been inducted, or if Lord Voldemort had forged any new alliances.

This left next to nothing for Snape to group Bakura with. If he was working with the ministry, which was terribly unlikely in the first place, there would have long ago been aurors stationed around Grimmauld Place, because the ministry was most definitely not known for its subtlety. Severus _had_ noticed that the boy was terribly pale, and that his glare had gleamed red in the moonlight. Perhaps Bakura was a stray vampire.

_'Hypocrite.'_ he told himself. How many times had he brushed over the minds of his unruly students, only to find with annoyance that they were comparing him to an overgrown bat or a vampire (as well as utterly ignoring their potions)? No doubt the _albino_ (_not_ vampire) boy would be just as irritated at the sentiment.

Severus Snape growled under his breath, stopping abruptly and plopping down on his office chair to look over his fifth year syllabus. He had other things to do at the moment, and it wouldn't do to let his musings at Bakura occupy his every waking moment. He had thought about it enough as of today, at any rate. As long as the teen wasn't working with Voldemort, which he wasn't, he was not their main threat or focus.

Snape itched to go to Dumbledore to inform him of his suspicions, however nebulous they may have been. However, he knew that Albus Dumbledore, by simply being _Dumbledore_, never had a single spontaneous moment, and always planned _everything_ out to the very last detail. That meant that if he did in fact go to the headmaster, he would have been brushed off lightly and inconsequentially, something that always made him flare up in anger.

So Severus Snape merely decided to wait and see.

xxxxxx

Ryou sat in the kitchen, staring off into space. In actuality, he had gone off into the privacy of his soul room to think, leaving the body unclaimed as Yami no Bakura had taken spirit form in favor of the ability to easily spy on other people undetected- not that he couldn't do that even _with_ a corporeal body.

Everything that had happened in the past week or so was like a blur, so many new things butting their ways into his life so quickly that he never had time to really process it all. The wizarding world was so complicated. Nothing was as it seemed, and the government was just as corrupt as all other governments, and probably more ignorant. Then there was the threat of Voldemort. However much the Spirit of the Ring thought the 'Dark Lord' a pushover, Ryou knew that the insane sociopath was still very at large and very capable of destruction.

Ryou found it ironic that the supposed Ministry of Magic, which was supposed to protect the people of the wizarding world, was utterly ignoring the blatant presence of a psychotic mass-murderer in favor of attempting to prosecute a secret organization that was trying to _get rid of_ said evildoer. It was a smear campaign- classic and so flagrantly shameless that it was a wonder so many people believed it.

_"I don't believe it! It's _him_ again!" _came Yami no Bakura's angry voice through his soul room walls. Ryou felt the body lurch into action. He stood up and peered through the eyes. The spirit walked briskly towards the kitchen door. He stalked down the hallway and stopped just before he reached the entrance hall, glaring at the column locks and chains on the front door as they clicked undone one by one and the door was thrown open.

"Dumbledore." the Spirit of the Ring hissed, orbs blazing crimson, stepping out of the shadows to face the headmaster as he entered the house.

"Ah, Ryou, I was looking for you." the old man murmured, unfazed. His serene blue eyes twinkled with some unknown emotion.

"Of course you were. And it's _Bakura._" Bakura ground out. No doubt, the man was going to go on about his school again. The spirit was itching to give the old coot of a mortal a good shadow game; _then_ they'd know who needed to brush up on their magic- not that the loser would have another chance. However, he couldn't do so because of the _other_ stupid and presumptuous wizards who were probably a greater threat.

"So, have you reconsid-"

"No." Bakura snarled, cutting Dumbledore off before the man could even finish. "I've told you a thousand times. My answer is no."

"You would be in danger if you didn't come to Hogwarts." Dumbledore said instead, ignoring the spirit's response.

"Danger? Danger of what?" he inquired pointedly. _"So now he's threatening me. The way I see it, I'm in much more danger _in_ this accursed wizarding mess."_

"You would be in danger of Voldemort if you couldn't use magic. He could come after you at any time."

"Why would he come after me, especially in _Japan_? What do I have that he would want?" Bakura demanded. _"I have the Millennium Ring and Eye. But he doesn't know that, does he?"_

"If he defeats us, he will go after the rest of the world." Dumbledore replied. The spirit gaped at him incredulously before snorting.

"Then we'll just have to wait until then, won't we? Do you _plan_ on being defeated?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, no doubt to answer with something else witty. Bakura was prepared for a _very_ long discussion.

xxxxxx

Ron sneezed, sending up a puff of dust and earning himself a disapproving glare from Hermione. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were currently dusting the library bookshelves. Actually, it seemed more like the other way around- the shelves never got any cleaner and the golden trio was becoming increasingly grimier.

"This is bloody hopeless." Ron grumbled. Harry was inclined to agree. Hermione looked on the verge of panic.

"Oh, if we could just use magic!" she cried, swiping her duster vainly over the top shelf with as much force as she could muster. This only managed to knock down a few books, one of which hit her head with a dull thunk.

"Ouch." Harry muttered, and Ron winced. Hermione only sighed leaned down to pick it up, along with the others that had fallen. She didn't even have the heart to flip through them before she shoved them back onto the shelf. Another stream of dust poured from the crevices, and she wrinkled her nose, trying her best not to breathe in the irritants.

"Mum should have made Fred and George do this. At least they're allowed to do it magically." Ron grunted, waving hi feather duster around and dispelling more debris in the air. As if saying their names summoned them, Fred and George appeared behind them with a crack, nearly causing their brother to fall off the ladder in fright. "Don't do that!" Ron snapped, regaining his balance.

"No can do, brother. Annoying you-" began Fred.

"-is our specialty." finished George. Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics. However, she gave them a warm, grateful smile when the swept their wands at the shelves, causing all the dust just to vanish.

"Normally, we would rather watch you-"

"-do it the muggle way, but-"

"-Dumbledore's here, downstairs-"

"-having another row with-"

"-Bakura." Ron had looked away as soon as his brothers began, but Harry and Hermione were not so lucky. They were still dizzy from darting their eyes back and forth so rapidly.

"Well, so what're you waiting for?" George asked, prodding his brother and nearly causing him to fall again.

"Let's go!" Fred called, already heading out the door. The remaining three followed gladly, for anything would be more interesting than another day of cleaning.

They emerged downstairs, not bothering to eavesdrop with extendable ears. They didn't want to risk a falling out with Bakura, who they had just gotten to know, and who seemed to have excellent hearing. Sure enough, he had paused in his speech to turn his head towards the hallway long before they came into view.

"So, you five are joining us again?" he asked dryly. Fred and George put on sunny smiles and gave him thumbs up. Bakura sneered and turned back to Dumbledore, who was currently gazing at him levelly through his half-moon spectacles.

"Why don't you ask them what _they_ think?"

"Alright then. What do you think of Bakura going to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked the new arrivals, a calculating and borderline triumphant stare fixed upon Bakura.

_"That manipulating old man... He's making it sound like I _want_ to go and he isn't sure..."_

"Oh well, it'd be great if Bakura could come..." Hermione began. She was cut off by the death glare that the spirit shot her way. She quickly realized her mistake and paled, suddenly finding the ground a very interesting study. But her slip-up had been enough. Dumbledore's argument had been refueled.

_"And just when I almost had him down... I want to kill someone right now!"_

"Remember, nothing suspicious." Ryou warned, sure that his dark's murderous impulses were very real.

_"Yadonushi, don't rub it in."_

"You see, your classmates want you to attend the school. It would be a once in a lifetime opportunity for you." Dumbledore said. Bakura felt his hand inching towards his knife. He clenched the offending appendage tightly into a fist to keep it still. This man was making him angry, outraged even- something only the Pharaoh had ever accomplished before.

"Why won't you just accept no for an answer!" Bakura screamed, unable to take it anymore. He knew he'd lost the battle of wills- he had caved in to his pent up vexation. But really, it didn't matter at that moment, for behind him, heavy dark velvet curtains parted to reveal a painting of a livid woman, who promptly began screaming at the top of her lungs.

"FILTHY MUDBLOODS, MUTANT FOREIGN SCUM, DEFILING THE HOUSE OF MY FOREFATHERS-" The Spirit of the Ring whipped out a knife and threw it without thinking. It sailed through the air with a whoosh and was embedded in the canvas, piercing through it and into the wall with a jarring twang. The portrait of Mrs. Black was so shocked that she shut up, edging away from where the knife blade had pierced the chair painted in the background. Bakura looked a bit startled himself, but quickly got over his surprise. He stalked over to the painting as its inhabitant began yelling once more. "VILE BLOOD, NO BETTER THAN A MUGGLE! BEGONE FROM THIS HOUSE, HOW DARE YOU ENTER AND SULLY THESE HALLS?"

The spirit merely gazed at her calmly, watching her shout herself hoarse for a little while before he seemed to loose interest. The woman's eyes were bulging from her skull, and flecks of painted spit flew and flecked the 'other side' of the canvas. Bakura ignored her, instead focusing his attentions upon his knife. Carefully, lovingly, he grasped the handle and wiggled it, extricating the blade from the painting and scrutinizing it for any damage. He frowned when he found a nick in the metal, but decided that it could be amended later. He ran his finger over the edge, leaving a glistening sheen of blood on the blade. He smiled widely; it was still decently sharp.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George watched this with disbelieving eyes- Hermione most of all. When they had talked just that morning, he hadn't seemed much like the knife wielding, blood loving type of person- quite the contrary- he was soft, prim, and polite, a little bit on the shy side. Finally, once Bakura had finished his inspection, he wiped the blood off on his shirt and slid the blade back into its sheath- or at least, that's what everyone assumed happened, because it had seemed to vanish into his clothing.

"Would it kill you to shut up, woman?" he finally asked the portrait of Mrs. Black pointedly. She glared at him and continued screaming, her insults quickly escalating in vulgarity. The albino seemed to sigh, but the effect was ruined by the smirk that appeared on his face a split-second later, "Well, you asked for it."

And to everyone's collective shock, he took a deep gulp of air and began shouting back, with equal vigor and perhaps more ferocity. The things he said would've made even the most churlish seaman blush. Mrs. Black was turning an unsightly shade of puce, and a vein seemed to be throbbing in her temple, ready to burst. By this time, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and pretty much the rest of the occupants of the house had been attracted by the unadulterated screaming match, albeit with fingers in their ears. Remus' eyes were wide, and Sirius looked like he wanted nothing more than to roll around on the floor, laughing.

Sometime perhaps halfway through his yelling, Bakura had switched to Japanese, and was now spouting incomprehensible gibberish (to the witches and wizards present), which was, unfortunately, still unmistakably very insulting.

"THE DARK LORD WILL DESTROY YOU, YOU FILTHY WRETCH!" Mrs. Black shouted. Bakura stopped dead, a dazed expression on his face. It quickly turned into a twisted, dark, depraved, and hungry stare. He began laughing, small giggles at first, which turned to chortling, and then became outright hysterical, and all the while, there was something psychotic, strange, and _wrong_ about it.

"Your self-proclaimed _Dark Lord _is nothing, _nothing_ compared to the Dark Master Zorc, High Priest of the Shadows! He will be resurrected, and the world will be plunged into an eternal dark void! Then all you _pathetic_ mortals shall see!" he hissed under his breath, in English this time. However, the effect was just as jarring as the yelling had been. Mrs. Black stared at him, speechless, and her curtains slammed closed by themselves. Everybody in the room stared at him, some in fear and others in anger. Moody even pulled out his wand. Suddenly however, Bakura's face went blank and he slumped, nearly toppling over. When he regained his balance, his eyes were wide and innocent, swimming with confusion.

Ryou was afraid. What had actually happened was much more disturbing than what the wizards on the outside had seen and heard. When Yami no Bakura had begun shouting, Ryou had been cut off from the outside world, but had remained conscious. Perhaps a minute or two into the rant, dark waves of anger and a strange giddiness began emitting from the spirit in waves, striking terrible and irrational fear within Ryou. Suddenly, the dark emanation had wrapped around his soul room, nearly choking the horrified hikari, and the same declaration that the wizards had heard had rung out inside him, each terrifying word coated with suffocating power. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the presence faded and the connection reopened. Yami no Bakura had fallen unconscious a moment after**(1)** and Ryou was thrown into control, scared and bewildered.

"Wh-what happened to me? I-I feel s-strange, a-and I-I think I b-blacked out." he stammered. And his yami had said that he was a bad liar... Well, technically, as he had been cut off from his body, there _had_ been a sort of 'black out.' Then again, he had neglected to mention the dark power that had filled up his soul. Harry was the first to speak.

"That looked sort of... well, it was sort of like when Professor Trelawney made that prediction." he muttered tentatively.

"You mean that time in our third year during your Divination exam?" Ron asked. Harry nodded.

"What if it really _was_ a prediction? That'd be horrible!" Hermione squeaked. She didn't believe in divination, but there was always the possibility...

"Wh-what did I say?" Ryou asked, eyes wide. He didn't even have to pretend to panic- what had really happened was certainly distressing enough.

"You, ah, predicted the rise of another Dark Lord... Zorc I believe." Remus muttered in explanation. What remaining blood there was drained from Ryou's face as the full implication of those words finally hit him. He began trembling visibly, and looked on the verge of tears.

"Zorc... the Dark Master, no, it can't be! Who in their right mind would..." he trailed off, blinking and shaking his head, as if in denial.

"You know something about this Zorc?" Moody asked bluntly, still pointing his wand at the boy. Molly glared reproachfully at him, yet even she was afraid to go near the unstable albino at the moment. It didn't go unnoticed that Ryou flinched at the name. It was sort of like how wizards flinched at the mention of Voldemort. However, before there could be an all out interrogation, Molly had regained her wits and already run over to Ryou, hugging him and patting his back, whispering soothing words. He let her coddle him, eyes dull and blank. He sniffled.

"Why don't we talk about this over dinner? Ryou, why don't you go up to your room for now?" Mrs. Weasley murmured, turning him in the direction of the stairs. She shot a dark glare at everyone else in the room, as if challenging them to even _try_ complaining. No one did, and slowly, the hall emptied out.

Ryou walked zombie-like up the stairs, onto the first landing, and into his room. Set, who was coiled on his bed, hissed as Ryou entered, as if he could sense his master's shock and sadness. Ryou picked up the snake, which he had come to like, and placed it on his lap as he sat down. Suddenly, whatever had been keeping him calm snapped. He burst into angry tears, feeling alone and wretched. Zorc... he had been Yami no Bakura's representative playing piece in Monster World, but Ryou had always thought of him as so much more. The Dark Master Zorc was a Duel Monsters' card, wasn't it? And he had come to know that duel monsters weren't just images or holograms, but real creatures, denizens of the shadow realm.

So what had his yami- no, the _voice_- been talking about when he-it- had spoken of Zorc's _resurrection_? The ritual spell card, Contract with the Dark Master, was required to summon Zorc in the card game... did that mean that a contract had to be made to bring him out in real life? The terrible presence that had flooded his soul... had that been Zorc? Or perhaps, even just a small fragment of Zorc? Ryou shuddered. Who would want to bring such a darkness into the world? And why?

xxxxxx

Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged up the stairs, bypassing Ryou's quarters and heading up to their own landing a floor above. They shuffled into Harry's and Ron's room, plopping down on Harry's bed to discuss what they'd heard.

"That prediction that Bakura made, about a new dark lord to surpass Voldemort, do you think it was real?" Harry began, putting out the question that they all wanted answers to.

"Well, that would've been hard to fake, mate. He looked all pale right before he said it. Do you think he was possessed or something?" Ron wondered.

"Dunno, but now that I think about it, it wasn't like what happened to Trelawney at all. Her voice went all loud and monotonous, and she just well... predicted. Bakura laughed, remember? And what he said sounded more like a threat than anything else. He was angry, wasn't he? Maybe he was showing his true colors, and pretended he had blacked out to cover it up!" Harry said, getting excited.

"Or it's like Ron said, maybe he's possessed. Or maybe it _was_ a prediction. You shouldn't be so quick to judge, Harry, we really don't know what he's like." Hermione chided.

"But Hermione, maybe his shyness and politeness was all just a facade. You saw how he was with that knife, and with the portrait, he's not right in the head! And, I'd forgotten before, but back when the dementors attacked, he said something like 'we've both lost our souls enough times already.' Isn't that a little suspicious?" Harry continued, determined.

"Harry, that doesn't make him evil! And from what you've said so far, possession does seem likely..." Hermione muttered.

"Well if he's possessed, that's even worse! What if he's being controlled by the other Dark Lord? What if he joins forces with Voldemort?" Harry pressed. Ron paled and shifted uncomfortably.

"Give You-Know-Who even _more_ power?" he groaned. Hermione shook her head.

"He was talking about You-Know-Who like he was scum. I don't think he's the type to want a partnership. And besides, you have to remember that Bakura's practically a muggle."

"How did he get here if he didn't use magic?" Harry demanded.

"Well, Dumbledore brought him, didn't he?" Ron replied. Hermione nodded.

"I still think there's something fishy about him." Harry muttered.

"Forget about him for now, Harry, there's still that trial!" At this, Harry groaned. "I mean, not that they would have much of a case against you, because they'd have to break their own laws." Hermione added hurriedly. "Besides, you have Dumbledore on your side."

Harry was about to say something scathing about Dumbledore when a shout of "Dinner's ready!" came from downstairs. The three quickly got up and filed out the door, hurrying downstairs towards an inviting smell. However, none of them were particularly hungry- they were more curious about Bakura. The albino was already seated at the kitchen table, looking only slightly better. His hair was mussed, and his eyes bloodshot. Fortunately, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. Bakura didn't even acknowledge them as they entered. Hermione sat down next to him tentatively, and Harry sat on his other side. Ron took a seat by Hermione. Bakura continued to ignore them.

The spirit was very troubled. He was just as confused as his hikari as to what had happened. He had said those accursed lines fluidly, naturally, and without realizing it. And worst of all, he had no idea what it meant. However, he felt like he _should_ know what it was, that he was supposed to understand. It was as if he had forgotten something _important_. He had woken shortly after Ryou had gone upstairs, and he had listened to his host's worries.

The world plunging into darkness wasn't what bothered him. 3000 years ago, he had wanted the shadow power of the millennium items as well. Scratch that, he _still_ wanted the shadow power, although that could wait for now. What bothered him was the mention of Zorc as the High Priest of the Shadows. He'd heard or seen that somewhere before- and it was definitely not on a Duel Monsters card. He just couldn't place the importance of it, and it frustrated him. He only hoped he remembered before it was too late.

Molly Weasley dished out the food silently. Once everyone had been served, Moody opened his mouth to speak.

"Tell us. Who is Zorc?" he asked roughly, glaring at Bakura. Harry noticed that the boy didn't flinch at the name this time. Bakura raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips as if contemplating. He suddenly had an idea. The Millennium Ring, which was hidden underneath his shirt, glowed as he opened a small portal to the Shadow Realm underneath the table. Out of the void fell a small lead figurine, a figurine that he had never actually expected to see again. He pulled his hand out from under the wooden tabletop, clutching the doll tightly. Those seated at the table looked on in curiosity, their food forgotten, as Bakura plopped the model onto the table.

"This," he began with a wry smile, "-is Zorc." Everyone recoiled. The spirit rolled his eyes. "What I meant was, this is a _figurine _of Zorc." he amended, and they relaxed sheepishly.

Hermione spoke up, "Why would someone make a figurine of a, er... Dark Lord?" she asked. Bakura sighed, playing with the Zorc model idly.

"There's a... muggle board game called 'Monster World.' I used to play it all the time. This," he picked the doll up and waved it around abstractly, "was the playing piece I used."

"Wait, so are you telling us that _you're_ Zorc?" Ron demanded, standing up. Bakura gave him an odd look before he burst out laughing.

"I can't even _imagine_ how you came up with _that _one. Just because I role-played Zorc doesn't make him and me one and the same." he said lightly. Ron flushed and sat back down again. "Yes, back to the explanation." Bakura reached for his deck. He noticed that the wizards seemed to tense and grasp their wands- probably because they thought he was doing the same. They all seemed surprised when he produced the deck of cards. "These are Duel Monsters cards." At the look of confusion on everyone's but the golden trio's faces, he elaborated, "Duel Monsters is a muggle card game."

"Get to the point, boy! What could muggle games have anything to do with this?" Moody snarled. Bakura smirked.

"Oh, muggle games have _plenty_ to do with this. Have some patience. As I was saying, these are Duel Monsters cards, and Dark Master- Zorc happens to be a Duel Monsters card. Unfortunately, I do not possess that card, but I'm sure you could find details on the internet." he explained, before apparently remembering something else. "Oh, wait- you wizards don't _use_ the internet!" he muttered scathingly.

_"Don't antagonize them _more_, yami!"_ came the panicked voice of Ryou in his head. In the spirit's opinion, the host was being paranoid.

"But if Zorc is just a character in a game-" Hermione began, but she was cut off.

"Zorc is not just an imaginary monster. He is very real, as real as you or me. However, to enter this world, he needs a body, a willing vessel, to make a deal or _contract_ with him. And that's really all I know." Bakura said. In fact, it _was_ pretty much all he knew at the moment. He was _sure_ he had known more, but he couldn't seem to remember it at all! It was as if there was some sort of block on his mind, and it frustrated him to no end.

"How _do_ you know this?" Surprisingly, this time it was the calm, tired tone of Remus Lupin that voiced the question. The spirit was startled. Exactly how_ did _he know?

_"Let me take over. I have an idea."_ There was a moment of hesitation before Yami no Bakura complied.

"I dreamt it." Ryou said simply. Everyone gaped at him in disbelief.

_"_This_ is your bright idea?" _the spirit demanded.

_"Yami, if you think about it, it's perfect! They can't pin the blame on us for dreaming something, and because of-"_ he faltered,_ "-because of what happened today, they can't really laugh either." _the hikari explained. Yami no Bakura snorted, but didn't make any further comments.

"Maybe he has the 'Inner Eye.'" Ron suggested. Hermione gave him a funny look.

"The Inner Eye?" she repeated, apparently puzzled.

"Well, I mean, it's what Trelawney calls it. You know, the ability to see the future?" Ron muttered uncomfortably in explanation. Hermione scoffed at this and turned back to her food. Harry snorted into his gravy. He found it funny that Ron had actually quoted Trelawney of all people.

"I do tarot readings sometimes..." Ryou said to no one in particular. Hermione looked away, nose in the air. Apparently, she didn't believe in Divination.

The rest of dinner went smoothly, as Moody couldn't think of anything else to ask. They were all mulling over what they'd heard, and the story became more believable every second. Perhaps they had been overreacting over the boy himself, and ignoring what he had actually said. If it had really been a prediction, then they were in for trouble. Then again, there was no time period specified. Perhaps this was something that would happen in the far off future, and was no worry at the moment. But they couldn't know for sure.

xxxxxx

There was one thing that had been nagging at Hermione for the duration of the meal. She fell behind as Harry and Ron headed upstairs, instead walking next to Bakura.

"Why exactly do you carry that figurine around?" Bakura stiffened noticeably. He had to come up with something, and quickly!

"It- it reminds me of the one time I lost the game, but won something much more precious." he muttered. At the look on Hermione's face, he added, "Friendship."

His face was unreadable as he turned onto his landing and hurried away without looking back.

xxxxxx

Ryou lay down on his borrowed bed, staring idly at the pockmarked ceiling. He raised his left hand and studied the dark scar that marred its surface. He didn't need any doll to remind him of that fateful game of Monster World. The memory of it was, after all, imprinted on the back of his hand. Slowly, he lowered the appendage and let it rest limply by his side, starting when he felt something cold and smooth writhe under his touch. There was a hiss from his left, and a dark, scaly head rose up to scrutinize him with beady black eyes. Set slithered up Ryou's arm and arranged himself on the boy's chest, settling down. Ryou yawned and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep...

Bakura was awoken a few hours later by a scream, followed by incoherent mutterings of something that sounded like 'se-ri, se-ri.**(2)**' Set twitched, moving off of Bakura and allowing him to stand. The spirit picked the snake up and wound him about his neck before strapping on his knives and heading up the stairs, towards the direction of the continued mutterings. They led him to Harry's and Ron's room. He cracked the door open silently, sneaking inside like a shadow and slinking over to the source of the sound. As he reached Harry's bedside, there was another scream, almost deafening. Bakura wondered how Ron could possibly sleep through this. Seeing that there wasn't any danger, he was about to leave, but Ryou stopped him.

_"What is it, Yadonushi?" _he grumbled. Ryou pushed Yami no Bakura out of control and prodded the still muttering Harry awake. The teen sat bolt upright, hair matted and drenched in sweat. He was breathing hard, and it took awhile for him to calm down.

"You looked like you were in pain, so I woke you." Ryou said. Harry started at the sight of the albino, but quickly recovered.

"I'm fine." he replied curtly.

"Are you sure? Was it a memory?" Harry nodded reluctantly and sighed.

"Would it help if you talked about it?" Ryou asked. Harry shrugged. The other boy took that as a yes and sat down at the edge of his bed. With nothing else to do and the prospect of another nightmare unwelcoming, Harry decided to speak.

"Remember what I told you about Voldemort's rebirth?" he began.

"Yes, you said the cup transported you and the other person, Cedric, to the graveyard, where Cedric was killed." Harry winced at this, "You watched Voldemort come back, dueled him, and managed to get back to the keyport." Ryou replied.

"Portkey." Harry corrected, before continuing, "Well, I've been having nightmares about it for awhile now, mostly about Cedric's death and the ritual." he paused, "The ritual was... disturbing."

_"The ritual. I was wondering about that. It gave this Dark Lord his own body, did it not?" _the spirit said. Ryou panicked.

_"Y-you're not thinking of doing it, are you?"_ he stammered.

_"Perhaps."_ Yami no Bakura left it hanging. Ryou wasn't really sure why he felt a surge of dread at the idea. Perhaps it was because the idea of this ritual gave him a bad feeling. Perhaps it was because he did not wish to unleash the Spirit of the Ring upon the world. Or perhaps it was because of how much nicer his yami had become in the past few weeks, and he didn't want the spirit to leave...

Harry was speaking again. "Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, and blood of the enemy." he murmured, eyes clouded over in the throes of memory. Ryou heard a sigh that was not his within his mind.

_"Pity. My father's bones were melted down with all the others. And I don't really have servants now, do I?" _Bakura said blandly. Ryou shuddered.

"It sounds horrible." he muttered. Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

"It was. And the worst part of it was when Wormtail- that's one of Voldemort's Death Eaters- cut off his own hand and dropped it in..." Ryou blanched at this, feeling bile rise up in the back of his throat. Harry dreamed about _this_ every night?

_"Psh, I've seen plenty of people do worse things to themselves." _Bakura snorted. Ryou scowled at the unwanted input.

"-Then he took my blood and put it in, and there was smoke everywhere, and finally Voldemort came out of the cauldron. He was all pale, and he looked sort of like a snake..."

_**"A sssnake?"**_Harry started at the rasping voice that certainly did not belong to any of the humans in the room. Of course, Ryou heard only a hiss.

_**"Yeah, a snake."**_****

"Harry, did you just hiss?" Ryou asked in confusion. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"I-I think I just spoke parseltongue." he muttered.

"What's parseltongue?" Ryou inquired.

"The snake language. I can talk to snakes. I told you about it, remember?" Harry muttered uncomfortably. Ryou's eyes widened and he looked down. He had almost forgotten about Set. Apparently, Harry noticed the snake as well.

"And you have a snake around your neck!" he whisper-shouted, jumping up. Ryou grinned sheepishly.

"I forgot to introduce him! Harry, this is Set. Set, Harry."

_**"Nice to meet you, Harry."**_ Set said. Harry started.

_**"Oh, er, nice to meet you too."**_ Harry didn't think he'd ever get used to talking to snakes.

"You're so lucky! I'd like to be able to understand Set too." Ryou told Harry.

"Well, actually, everyone seems to think that parseltongue is dark magic or something. It caused me a lot of problems in my second year." Harry sighed. Ryou frowned.

_**"What wasss this about the man with the face of a sssnake?" **_Set asked. Harry opened his mouth to answer when three muffled chimes greeted their ears. He flushed.

"Oh I'm so sorry! You should probably be getting to sleep... Sorry for bothering you with all of this." he muttered.

"It's fine, as long as it made you feel better. But I guess I'll get going." Ryou replied. However, Harry spoke up again as he stood to leave.

"Set wanted to know about Voldemort." he said. Ryou paused before he unwound the snake from his neck and let him slither onto Harry's bed.

"Well, I'll leave him here tonight then. That way you two can talk." Harry nodded, before noticing something so outlandish that he was astounded he'd never paid attention to it before.

"Bakura, what's that gold pendant thing that you have?" Ryou froze. Yami no Bakura must have forgotten to conceal it under his shirt in his hurry.

Sure enough, there was a soft mutter of, _"Damn."_ from the spirit.

"This? It's just something my father gave me. He got it from a merchant in Egypt." Ryou told Harry calmly. He made his way to the door and opened it, placing one foot outside before turning, as if remembering something. "Good night, Harry." he said.

"G'night Bakura." Harry muttered absently. That pendant gave him a bad feeling.

xxxxxx

Footnotes:

1. In my story, Yami no Bakura isn't Zorc. Rather, he is the soul of the Thief King possessed by a mostly dormant fragment of Zorc's soul. Certain things, like being near the Pharaoh or Zorc being belittled will trigger the shard to take over and act. When it isn't needed, it will go away again. My theory is that Zorc has no reason to waste energy possessing a person on an everyday basis. However, because his soul _is_ there, it influences Bakura's choices subtly and subconsciously to steer him in the more advantageous direction for Zorc.  
2. That's kind of like Cedric, isn't it? If he's mumbling in his sleep, I don't think it'd be completely coherent. But I don't know- I've never heard anyone talk in their sleep before.


	4. Of Death Eaters and Old Men

Author Notes: It's another chapter, joy. Various assorted sweets for those who reviewed, and thanks to anyone who read, reviews or not. Sorry about the slightly long wait, stuff happened to my computer and I procrastinated as usual. But it's fixed now. And apologies for the shortness. It's only about 5000 words this time. Remember, spell-check is a fool and this is not beta-ed, so please excuse minor mistakes and point out major ones. Thank you!

Disclaimer: If you haven't gotten by now that I am not Kazuki Takahashi or J.K. Rowling, then you need your eyesight checked.

"Speech"  
_"Telepathy"  
'Thoughts'  
__**"Parseltongue"  
**_**(Footnote Number)**

xxxxxx

Ryou's eyes blinked open blearily, and he yawned. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before stretching luxuriously and casting off the duvet. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pausing to let his bare feet get over the momentary chill. Glancing over at the ancient clock on the wall, he saw that it was six-thirty. His eyes ached and his body clamored for him to lie back down and bury his face in the pillow, but his whirring mind desired otherwise, and the rest of him grudgingly complied and stood. Suddenly, there was a muffled shriek from upstairs.

"Again?" Ryou mumbled out loud. He wondered what it was this time.

xxxxxx

Ron's eyes were wide open in horror. Beady black eyes scrutinized him, and their owner hissed. The redhead scooted back further, whimpering when he hit the headboard of the bed. He had never liked snakes (due to the Slytherin connotation), especially after his time in the Chamber of Secrets. Although he hadn't actually fought the basilisk as Harry did, he had seen the giant skin that it had shed, and sometimes imagination could be worse than the real thing.

"G-get aw-way!" he stammered. The snake cocked its head curiously. Suddenly, the door was thrown open and an irritated Ryou stalked in. Without a word, he scooped up the snake, wrapped it around his neck like some sort of demented necktie, and trudged out of the room. Ron stared speechlessly at his retreating back.

Once he had almost gotten over that, he shot a cursory glance over at the opposite side of the room to gauge Harry's reaction, only to find him still sound asleep! _Now_ Ron was bewildered. Harry never slept harder or later than him. So why was he lying there now, completely out of it still even after the entire snake confrontation? And for that matter, was that snake Bakura's _pet_? It was so very Slytherin that he was about ready to agree with Harry that the boy was evil.

In actuality, the reason Harry was still dead to the world was because this was the best sleep he'd gotten for weeks. That, and the fact that he was up until four in the morning talking to Bakura's snake about Voldemort. Contrary to what he'd expected of the creature, the snake actually found the Dark Lord repulsive and disgraceful.

_**"A dishonor to the name of snakes."**_ had been the reptile's exact words.

Ron jumped. He had just heard a hiss! Was that snake back again? Or worse, were there _more_ snakes? Then he realized it had come from Harry, who appeared to be moving groggily to get up.

"Harry, why did you just say something in parseltongue?" Ron inquired suspiciously. Harry shrugged.

"I was talking to Bakura's snake last night. Must've been thinking about that." he replied, tugging a light blue shirt over his head. He yawned widely** (1)**. It was still way too early, in his opinion, to be up. He looked up at the clock that was situated above Ron's bed and groaned, seeing that it was only six forty-five.

"You were _talking_ with that thing? He could be with You-Know-Who for all we know!" Ron muttered. Harry shrugged.

"I don't think he was." he told the gaping redhead blandly without explanation. Yawning again, he finished buttoning up his shirt, pulled a pair of jeans on, and strolled out the door. Harry had other things on his mind now, aside from Ryou Bakura. The albino was weird and bi-polar, but he didn't seem so bad. What was more important was his ministry hearing, the stupid trial that they were holding because he decided to _defend himself._ Just the thought of it made him furious.

Ryou nearly fell down the stairs when he felt a sudden twinge in his abdomen. He groaned, wondering who was causing the disturbance. And just when he thought his shadow magic had gotten used to the intrusive new magic!

_"Go knock some sense into whoever it is."_ the blunt, growling voice of the spirit snapped. Ryou felt like hurling as Harry stomped past him down the stairs.

"Harry, why are you so angry?" he asked, hurrying after the boy and ignoring the complaints of his stomach.

_"Very smooth, host."_ the spirit snarled sarcastically. Ryou's quarry froze and turned, curious. With relief, Ryou realized that the brunt of the fury was suddenly gone.

"What do you mean?" Harry inquired. Ryou squirmed.

"You seemed mad a minute ago." he finally said. Harry shrugged.

"It's the hearing. They're going to put me on trial for underage magic because I used a patronus against those dementors." he explained. Ryou felt another uncomfortable twinge as the negative emotion flared up again inside the raven haired boy. The albino gaped.

"That's completely unfair! I'm sorry." he blurted without thinking.

"It's okay, there's nothing you can do." Harry muttered before entering the kitchen and cutting their conversation short. Ryou made it down the rest of the stairs and headed into the kitchen as well.

He was surprised to find another man already seated at the kitchen table at such an hour. Said man had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and pale skin to rival Ryou's own, and seemed somewhat familiar. He sneered as the albino entered the room and took a seat. He didn't give Ryou the best first impression, but he decided that it would be better not to judge until he knew the man better. After all, the spirit inhabiting his body was snide, cranky, and somewhat sadistic as well, but if given the chance (and dragged away from the Millennium Items), he could be a decent person (if you discounted his thieving ways).

Ten minutes of thumb-twiddling and uncomfortable studying of the table later (it had five nicks and two burn marks, as well as a strange skid mark near the end), Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen, followed by a groggy Ron. Harry was surprised to see that his best friend was actually out of bed so early. He'd assumed that the redhead had gone back to sleep after he had left. Ryou noticed that Ron shot a glare at the greasy haired man, who glared back with equal dislike. The white haired boy waved halfheartedly to Ron as he walked by, and the redhead returned the gesture, noting uncomfortably that the snake was still coiled lazily on the albino's shoulders and around his neck.

Molly Weasley was busy cooking breakfast, and it wasn't long before a huge vat of porridge, accompanied by stacks of toast, a pitcher of orange juice, plates of bacon, and heaps of eggs made its way onto the table. Ryou helped himself to some of everything, dumping honey into his porridge and spreading his toast with marmalade. As he ate, he absently fed strips of bacon to Set, who seemed to like it.

Severus Snape, the man who Ryou had noticed earlier, felt uncomfortable. Of course, he concealed it easily, used to hiding his emotions, but that did not change the fact that he did indeed feel strange. He couldn't help but notice that the albino had a snake around his neck, a snake that he seemed to be taking good care of. Although he himself was the head of the house of snakes, he still found it odd that anyone short of the Dark Lord would have one for a pet and allow it so near them. He also thought it strange that someone like him would pass up the opportunity to go to Hogwarts. And finally, he found it disturbing that the boy had extremely strong mental shields, shields that he suspected not even Dumbledore could penetrate. After all, he himself had certainly had come up with nothing, and he was considered to be one of the most skilled occlumens and legilimens. Where had a mere child learned such strong occlumency skills? And, more importantly, why would he _need_ those skills? What did the enigmatic albino before him have to hide? Severus Snape decided that he would take it upon himself to find out.

Therefore, after breakfast, as Ryou Bakura was leaving the kitchen, he bypassed the boy and confronted him.

"We need to talk. Come with me." Snape muttered. Bakura seemed to bristle, and the potions master's sense of foreboding increased. In actuality, the spirit had taken control of the body, in preparation for negotiation, interrogation, or whatever else this man had planned. Frankly, the Spirit of the Millennium Ring did not trust Severus Snape one bit. The man had a skewed aura on his soul, as if there was something _branded_ upon it. It felt like a botched up attempt at shadow magic to him, and he didn't like it at all.

"Fine." he muttered curtly, following the man into the nearest room, which was apparently some sort of parlor. It looked dusty and unused, although that wasn't saying much, as most of the house was in a similar derelict state.

"I am Severus Snape, potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." the man introduced. Bakura scowled.

"If you're trying to make me come to your bloody school, then forget it." he muttered. The professor sneered.

"Why would I want the likes of you to sully its halls? There are enough brainless twits as it is. No, I want to know the truth." Severus Snape snarled. "Who are you? Who do you work for? And how did you find this house?"

"I am Ryou Bakura. I work for _no one_. And as for this house, surely it's obvious. I found it with _magic_." the spirit smirked. Snape gritted his teeth. The boy was certainly playing with him, pushing his buttons.

"A dark presence emanates from you." the professor finally said. If anything, the boy before him grinned wider.

"And same with you. Your soul's aura is skewed, as if forcibly _marked_ _by darkness._" the albino hissed. Snape flinched involuntarily. Did this teenager know that he had been a Death Eater? And how could he read peoples' souls? In any case, Severus Snape was certain that Bakura had been referring to his Dark Mark. However, the potions master realized something else a second later- the kid was simply manipulating him, replying with his own words and making him feel unsettled without actually revealing anything at all.

"Where are your parents?" Snape hissed. He wanted to know what a boy Bakura's age was doing alone.

"My parents are- My father's off gallivanting somewhere in Egypt. My mother is dead." the spirit replied curtly, remembering just in time that he was supposed to be talking about his host's parents, not his own.

"I see. And you came here from Japan?" Bakura nodded, scowling, feeling no need to elaborate further. This was absolutely boring, and he wanted to give this nosy man a good old fashioned penalty game. But alas, that wouldn't really be the wisest thing to do at the moment.

"Why are you so interested?" Yami no Bakura inquired pointedly. The professor returned his dark glare evenly.

"This is a war, Mr. Bakura. There is no one you can trust." Snape responded. The spirit sneered.

"You're absolutely right, and I _don't_ trust anyone in this house as a result. I'm going out." And with that, Bakura turned and stalked out of the room, down the hall, and out of the front door, pausing only briefly to throw open the locks.

_"Yami, I don't think that was such a great idea..."_

_"Shut up, host."_ Ryou cringed at the tone of voice. It was past irritated, cranky, or even angry. It was _pissed_.

When the Spirit of the Millennium Ring was pissed, he was nigh invincible. Even the gods trembled before his wrath. However, when the spirit was pissed, he was also careless and unobservant. Thus, a furious yami and his preoccupied host failed to notice the cloaked figures following them until it was too late.

"Stupefy!" one of them shouted. It was only dumb luck that the Death Eater who had cast the spell had terrible aim, and Bakura was a moving target. The burst of red light missed by a large margin, and the spirit became aware of his attackers. Due to the fact that he was still extremely angry, he was still in his metaphorical 'invincible mode,' and not to be taken lightly. Since the Death Eater had taken the first attack and _missed_, thereby giving his opponent the upper hand, the spirit was free to do as he wished in regards to shadow power. And at the moment, he wished for nothing more than to seal someone's soul away into an inanimate object... perhaps a doll, but sadly, he had none handy. So the Spirit of the Millennium Ring did the next best thing.

"PENALTY GAME!** (2)**" he screamed, pointing at the masked and cloaked figure. The two remaining Death Eaters watched in shock as their comrade's eyes suddenly went wide and he keeled over, screaming for mercy from something they could not see. The man on the left was first to react.

"Crucio!" he shouted, and this time, the burst of white light hit its target dead on. Yami no Bakura was hit by a crashing wave of pain. His insides felt like they were boiling, and his skin burned with the pain of a thousand white hot knives. However, this served only to make him more pissed. And the funny thing with the spirit of the Thief King and pain was that if there was way too much of it, he could completely ignore it. Perhaps, alone, the cruciatus curse wouldn't have qualified as 'way too much pain' for a deranged spirit. However, the curse itself, coupled with the nausea that came with strong non-shadow magic striking him, was certainly enough to go over the edge, past the 'too much to feel' threshold and could be pushed aside.

So, naturally, the Death Eater who had cast the curse was bewildered when, instead of falling over, screaming and writhing, the victim stood up straighter than before and threw back his head, laughing psychotically. Finally, because of this momentary disbelief, the follower of Voldemort was unable to react quickly enough to dodge the fist that came rocketing towards his face at an alarming rate. The punch hit him squarely in the middle of his face, and Yami no Bakura was not one to punch softly. The Death Eater's head snapped back with a sickening crack, and he slammed into the ground, unconscious or perhaps dead. With his loss of consciousness, the cruciatus curse was canceled, and the spirit was greeted with the aftereffects of the curse, which were somewhat worse than the curse itself (due to the fact that he hadn't actually felt the curse). His muscles ached from prolonged shock, and he was too slow to dodge the 'stupefy' sent his way by the last remaining Death Eater.

Of course, the stunning spell worked by knocking out the victim's conscious. Therefore, when the spirit went down, Ryou immediately took over for him. Despite his soft spoken and shy ways, Ryou wasn't completely oblivious in the subject matter of self defense. He had to have learned _something_ from his childhood years of being bullied. So he lay still, pretending to be stunned.

When the Death Eater came near, no doubt to apparate him away, Ryou lashed out, sending a kick towards the man, who was taken by surprise. His legs were knocked out from under him, but other than that, the kick didn't do much. Ryou had never been as strong as his spirit, and probably never would be. So he knew it was inevitable that he would lose the fight, and, sure enough, the angry Death Eater got up and sent another spell his way. He rolled aside to dodge, but failed to escape a second spell, a stunner, which hit him in the chest. Ryou never noticed that Set had vanished sometime throughout the whole ordeal.

xxxxxx

The minute of time Ryou's fighting attempt had bought wasn't much, but it was enough. At the first sign of danger, Set had leapt off of his master's (or his partner's, as he liked to think of it) shoulders and revealed one of his hitherto undiscovered abilities: flight. Well, it wasn't exactly _flight_, more like magical hovering, as he could only really lift himself up a couple of feet. But that beat slithering over uneven ground, and it gave him a better vantage point.

In record time, he made it back to the House of Black, through the door that Bakura hadn't bothered to lock, and up the stairs into the library, where the parselmouth and his friends were.

_**"Quick, he'sss in danger!"**_ Set hissed. The three were shocked to see the hovering snake, but Harry was first to recover and realized what the serpent was talking about.

"Bakura's hurt!" Harry told Ron and Hermione urgently. Then he turned back to the snake. _**"Where is he?"**_

_**"Follow me."**_ the snake moved, and the golden trio ran after him.

"How do you know this isn't a trap?" Ron muttered even as they walked.

"In the off chance that it isn't, we have to help Bakura! He's our friend." Hermione replied.

"Oh, he's our friend now, is he?" Ron hissed back.

"Guys, there's no time for this. Hermione's right. We have to help, just in case." **(3) **Harry said, silencing the redhead, who made no move to return or to stop his friends, and reluctantly kept moving.

They arrived just in time, as the last Death Eater stunned Ryou and was about to apparate him away. Remembering just in time that magic was forbidden and use of it would probably get them (especially Harry) expelled, they snuck up behind the man and tackled him, their combined weight toppling him and sending his wand skidding away. The Death Eater struggled, howling in pain as Set sank his fangs into his arm. Although the snake wasn't poisonous, his bite still stung. Harry elbowed the man in the back of the skull, sending his head crashing into the pavement and knocking him out.

Hermione got off of Ron uncomfortably, blushing, before hurrying over to the albino boy's side. He seemed fine, just knocked out, and she sighed in relief. They picked him up and hauled him towards the house. Who knew such a skinny boy could be so heavy?

As they ran up to the doorstep, the door was thrown open and an angry and relieved looking Mrs. Weasley confronted them.

"Where have you been? I was so- oh no, what happened to him? You'd better explain yourselves!" she muttered, grabbing Ryou and running to the drawing room, dumping the boy on the sofa. She then rounded on Harry, Ron, and Hermione, giving them a glare that clearly said, "Explain." So Harry began, seeing as the other two were squirming and unsure of what to say.

"Er, about ten minutes ago, Bakura's snake showed up and told us that he was in danger. So we followed him outside and we found a Death Eater standing over Bakura. I think he was stunned." he told Molly. The Weasley matron looked appalled.

"Death Eaters? Oh, the poor boy!" she cried. There was a groan from nearby, and the group started as Ryou awoke. Yami no Bakura was still out cold, due to the fact that he had been fighting and was tired out and so more affected by the stunning spell.

"W- I was ambushed. There were three. I took out two, but the other one managed to catch me off guard." he said hoarsely. Ryou had almost said 'we.' Molly paled even more, shocked. Severus Snape walked in, sneering.

"I'm surprised. Three Death Eaters ambushed you, and you knocked out two all by yourself. And here we have someone supposedly _untrained in magic._" he snarled. "I wonder how you did it." Mrs. Weasley glared at him. He stared back coldly before turning and leaving.

xxxxxx

Yami no Bakura was infuriated. It seemed as though he was angry a lot these days... and it was all that _nagging, thick-headed old coot_ Dumbledore's fault. The old prune had had the audacity to not only come back, but to use the Death Eater attack as an excuse to again try to wheedle them into going to his stupid school.

"You see, you need to learn to defend yourself better." Dumbledore said in that _annoying, calm, convincing_ tone of his. It drove the spirit up the wall.

"Are you saying I would've fared better if I'd known some parlor tricks? It was _three on one_. I took down two of them! I don't see how a few more magic tricks would've helped me." Bakura snarled. **(4)**

"Well, the possibility of another attack is real, and it wouldn't hurt to learn more ways to defend yourself." the headmaster replied. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring wanted to bang his head on something.

_"If I wanted to learn how to do your tricks, I could've just read it out of a book! No doubt this school teaches plenty of other unnecessary fluff other than what I really want!"_

Dumbledore stared at the albino, waiting for a response.

_"Say it out loud, yami."_ Ryou sighed. Yami no Bakura realized embarrassedly that he had sent the last bit through the mind link instead of speaking it aloud and quickly rectified his mistake.

"I'm not interested in any other spells. Frankly, going to school isn't worth my time if all I want to learn are defensive maneuvers." he muttered.

"We do have a divination class. Perhaps we could hone that talent of yours." The spirit glared at Dumbledore in disbelief.

_"Excuse me? My divination certainly does not need refining. I probably know more than the teacher!" _he thought angrily, metaphorically shouting it in his mind. Although this was just one of Yami no Bakura's bouts of meaningless prideful declarations, it was actually true this time. Nearly all of the Hogwarts student body (with some exceptions, of course) and most of the teachers and staff seriously doubted that Sybill Trelawney could even predict her way out of a sack.

After a couple of minutes where the spirit simply glared, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Mr. Bakura, you could at least give Hogwarts a try. Rest assured, you may leave at any time if you find it unsatisfactory."

xxxxxx

The Spirit of the Millennium Ring still wasn't sure what had possessed him to agree with Dumbledore. Oh, wait- he _hadn't_ agreed! The stupid old man had taken his affronted stare for tacit consent, and proceeded to enroll him in fifth year.

Yami no Bakura gave the letter in his hands a death glare, as if it was the cause of all his problems- which, in a way, it was. _Acceptance letter_ indeed. He could've sworn it was some sort of mockery of him, declaring that it was _accepting_ him into a school he hadn't applied for and hadn't ever had any intentions of applying for. It had been shoved carelessly under his nose by _Headmaster_ Dumbledore, who insisted that the letter was protocol. But seriously, he'd been in the same room as the madman, and still gotten a letter. Delivered by an _owl_ no less. What a waste of time.

Along with the accursed piece of parchment had come a list of school supplies, which could be bought at Diagon Alley. That was the only welcoming prospect here, the chance to leave the accursed house and explore. Without a doubt, he would be stealing something. After all, the spirit had been deprived of his favorite pastime (other than stealing souls, but that was a form of thievery too) for _far_ too long. Perhaps he would even get to robbing that bank...

_"Yami, it could be dangerous. No one's ever done it before, as far as I know." _Ryou cautioned. The spirit scoffed.

_"What's the fun without the danger? There's a first for everything, my little yadonushi." _His warning tone told Ryou plainly that nothing he said would change the spirit's mind, and it would be unwise to try.

"Dumbledore told us the news. I'm glad you're coming to Hogwarts!" Hermione said enthusiastically. Her reply was a less than thrilled growl, a dull thwacking sound, and a muffled grunt as the spirit threw down the letter and buried his face in a sofa cushion. The bushy haired girl frowned.

"I wouldn't be going if that old coot hadn't forced me into it." he muttered curtly. Hermione sighed and left the sulking albino alone.

Of course, Ryou Bakura and his yami weren't the only ones who were less than eager at the prospect of them being sent to Hogwarts. One Severus Snape brooded angrily in a corner. He couldn't believe Albus had let the boy in without knowing _anything_ about him. In the potions master's opinion, that was one of the dumbest things the headmaster had ever done, worse than letting the wolf in. At least, with Lupin, he'd _known_ what he was and how to deal with him. But Ryou Bakura was an enigma, a mystery without a discernible personality at present and an even less lucid past. In fact, after all their research on the albino, they'd learned only two pieces of information, and both could've certainly been found out simply by asking the boy. They knew that he'd moved around often to accommodate his father's peripatetic job, and that he was one of the finalists in a card game tournament that year in Japan. In other words, it was as if he hadn't existed at all up until that point and had just popped out of nowhere. Severus Snape only hoped the kid was any good at potions so he wouldn't have to deal with him more than absolutely necessary. Contrary to popular belief, the professor did actually want his students to pass. However, with his luck, that was bound to be unlikely at best.

Ron had a bet with Fred and George on which house Bakura would end up in. The twins bet on Gryffindor ('he's got to be brave, to fight off those Death Eaters.') while Ron bet on Slytherin ('for heaven's sake, he has a bloody snake for a pet!'). Harry merely laughed at them, while Hermione glared disapprovingly. Truthfully, she had no idea what house he would be in. Once she thought about it, she realized that they knew next to nothing about him, and that everything that made up their image of Ryou Bakura was either superficial or assumed. They didn't know who his friends were, or what he liked to eat. They'd never asked if he liked to read, what his favorite subject was, or even when his birthday was! Due to his strange mood swings, they weren't sure if he was a kind and shy boy, an easily angered cranky teen, or something in between. They had no idea if he was trustworthy.

Hermione then realized something else; in all the hubbub and intrigue surrounding Bakura, she had forgotten about Harry's trial, which was to take place in just over a week! **(5) **A surge of guilt washed over her, and she bit her lip nervously. Even though she felt the whole trial was a farce, she wanted to put together the best defense she could for Harry, whether or not it would do any good. And to think she'd put it off this whole time! Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down, although she still was still pale and appeared a bit frazzled. Ron, Fred, and George were bickering and discussing Hogwarts with a dazed and slightly put out Ryou (Yami no Bakura had retreated to sulk in the more comfortable confines of his soul room) while Harry laughed at their antics and contributed once in awhile. However, Ryou did not fail to notice Hermione's pensive expression and worried eyes. So, being the caring and curious person he was, he stood up and walked over to where she sat in her own secluded corner of the room.

"Hermione, what's wrong? You seem worried." he said softly, sitting down beside her. She sighed and fiddled agitatedly with a strand of her hair.

"It's just that, I feel bad for forgetting about Harry's trial. I still haven't done any research at all, and I want to help him get a good defense." she muttered, her hand dropping limply onto her lap. She stared at them for awhile before biting her lip and sighing again. **(6)**

"Well, it's not too late yet, is it? You can start now, and we can all help." Ryou suggested. It would be good for him to get his mind off of Hogwarts, and perhaps it would help calm his yami's overpowering urge to strangle Dumbledore. Unlike the spirit, he didn't really see what was so terrible about attending. And the headmaster did say that they could leave at any time...

_"Fool! You should know by now that the old man's bad news. He _says_ he'll let you leave whenever, but mark my words that he'll be doing all he can to make us stay, and I won't stand for it!" _the Spirit of the Millennium Ring snarled. Ryou wondered if he was right. Dumbledore certainly had been persistent.

In any case, he remembered the flare of anger that accompanied Harry's thoughts on the ministry hearing. It certainly was completely unreasonable, but who knew how corrupt the court could be? It would be good to get some defense material ready, just in case. Hermione gave a tentative smile and nodded, standing up and apparently going back to her normal self.

"Thanks Bakura, I don't know what came over me. You're right, I- _we_ better get started now." she said confidently. And with that, she stalked over to the boys (who apparently hadn't noticed Ryou's departure), grabbed them by their collars, and dragged them bodily away towards the library. Ryou followed, a wry smile on his face.

Sometime throughout the course of the day, the dust in the library had returned. As he passed Ron, Ryou was sure he heard the redhead mutter something about the grime being charmed so as to stop people like Hermione from staying too long. Ryou fought the urge to chuckle, not wanting to inhale any of the irritating particles in the air. He headed towards where Hermione was already plucking various tomes off the shelves and thrusting them into the arms of her reluctant helpers. There was a veritable mountain of books stacked on one of the tables before Hermione finally declared there to be a suitable amount of material to start off with.

As Ryou flipped open the first volume, sending a puff of dust flying, he noted at once that the text was dry and full of law-related jargon. Well, one thing was for sure; it would certainly be a good distraction.

xxxxxx

Footnotes (there are too many! *drowns*):

1. This is ridiculous! I seriously yawned when I typed that, and then yawned more after. *sigh*  
2. I just wanted a penalty game somewhere! D:  
3. Remember, this is during OotP, and Sirius hasn't died yet, and Harry hasn't been tricked into the DoM by Voldemort. He still really has the 'we have to help so and so because they're in danger' attitude.  
4. I know, total overuse of italics in the entire previous section. But Bakura was really mad, and he was emphasizing stuff!  
5. Honestly, I have no idea when the trial was in context. I was flipping through the book, but I couldn't really find anything except that it was on August 12th, but that doesn't help because I don't know what the current date should be. I assumed it'd be near the end of July or early August, since Harry had been waiting for a month. I'm not sure when term ends and stuff, I only know it starts on September 1. The place where I am starts school August twenty-something (ha, you'd think I knew when my own school started), and ends late June (at least the university does), so I supposed that if he had the same summer length, he'd have ended school around the start of July. If it really bothers anyone, they can tell me about it.  
6. Ew I know, OOC 'Mione! But it's only for a second, forgive the authoress!!

Additional Author Notes: I am officially out of plot outline. That doesn't mean I'll stop writing or lose inspiration or anything like that, it just means I haven't got anything planned out, and so the story will be dictating itself, so to speak. That means that if you want something to happen, tell me and I'll probably find a way to include it, provided it isn't outlandish and unfitting. The rest of the Yu-Gi-Oh gang is unlikely to make an appearance, as Ryou never had the best relationships with them and this is a Ryou Bakura centric fic.


	5. Notes to be Noted and Hearings to Hear

Author Notes: Meh, so I've taken some suggestions/hopes into consideration for this chapter. Cookies and milk (or juice if you're lactose intolerant) for all my reviewers! Thanks to everyone who took the time to read. This is a back to school gift, and bear in mind that once school does start, it will take a lot longer for me to update, perhaps a week to a month. I'll try to write as quickly as possible. The second half of this chapter may not be up to par, as I was writing while sick.

To Bokmal14: Ehehe, the sorting will be next chapter, or maybe even the one after that, actually! I write events day by day, most of the time, and it's only halfway through summer...

To Elaendorlien: Like mentioned, sorting will be later. What do you mean you don't like Snape? Do you not like his character, his personality, his take on Ryou, or the way he's portrayed? I just needed someone to be suspicious, xD, and Moody's the type to curse first and ask questions later...

To maria: Wow, that's a huge chunk of plot! Unfortunately, I do write a small summary-ish thing of the chapter I am writing just before I start writing it, and I had Bakura specifically NOT rob Gringotts as of yet. However, I have taken your ideas into account, and you'll see some similarities integrated into this chapter or the next... depending on how long it takes me to write the trip to Diagon. I'm glad you like the story enough to even consider thinking up that much plot, and I hope you're happy with what I turn out.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm fairly certain the computer you are using belongs to you and/or your family.

"Speech"  
_"Telepathy"  
'Thoughts'  
_**(Footnote Number)**

xxxxxx

They had been researching for half a day, plus this morning, and the group was already worn out. Hermione and Ryou both took neat, concise notes, and consequently theirs were the only pages that were legible and of any use as Harry apparently wrote down only the bolded keywords (which were of no use on their own) since he couldn't make heads or tails of what he was reading, Fred and George both had smudged and messy handwriting that would've taken a team of trained linguists and a powerful microscope to decipher, and Ron had fallen asleep in his book.

Hermione added another sheet to her stack of drying parchment, scowling disapprovingly at a certain snoozing redhead. She snapped her book shut and cuffed him over the head. Ron let out a muffled yowl, jerking his head up and detaching it from the page he'd been resting on, which crackled loudly and snapped up, flying out of the book. As it turned out, it was actually a sheet of not-quite-dry note parchment. On his face was imprinted a smudged and reversed copy of his slightly less than satisfactory notes. At the amused look on his companions' faces, Ron turned beet red. Ryou sighed, finishing up the chapter he had been working on, which was a list of various cases where underage magic or magic in front of muggles had been pardoned. True, it was interesting information, and he'd learned plenty of new things that gave him better perspective on the wizarding world, but that did not mean that he wasn't tired and in need of a break. The text was arranged in a dull format and told in a rather biased manner, in his opinion, and it was simply difficult to get through. The fact that the Spirit of the Millennium Ring was in his incorporeal form behind him, occasionally inputting snide remarks or snorts of contempt heard only by him, did not make it any easier.

"Hermione, we need a break." It was actually Harry who declared this, throwing down his quill. No doubt he'd by then given up on the book in his hands, a thick volume titled _A Comprehensive Compilation of Wizarding Laws. _The brown haired witch pursed her lips, flipping absently through another book. She sighed.

"Yes, I suppose." she conceded, for even she was having trouble concentrating in the musty atmosphere. She stood up, shaking off the dust that had accumulated on her clothing and in her hair. By now, everyone was sure the library's dirt was charmed to stay permanently. As Ryou stood up, he felt himself falling backwards. At first, he thought he'd tripped, but then he realized that he was in spirit form and that in fact, the Spirit of the Ring had rudely taken over, literally kicking him out of his body.

_"Yami!"_ he groused, dissipating his form and reappearing in his soul room.

_"Quiet host, you've had the body for the past day and a half. Don't you dare complain."_ Yami no Bakura snapped back. Ryou sighed and walked over to the bed in the corner, making himself comfortable. He felt the urge to point out that the infernal spirit had had the body for weeks during Battle City, but decided that it would be more prudent to refrain from mentioning that event in any way.

"Let's head up to our rooms so Mum doesn't catch us and have us start cleaning again." Ron suggested. Fred and George disappeared with a pop, and Hermione and Bakura followed Harry and Ron up to their room. They made themselves comfortable on Harry's bed.

"So uh... Bakura, is there anything you want to know about Hogwarts?" Hermione inquired. Ryou winced, unheard. That wasn't the best topic to discuss right now, for Yami no Bakura's pride was still sore from losing the mind game with the old man. However, there was one thing that Ryou had been wondering.

_"Spirit, why did you not just leave if you didn't wish to attend the school?"_ he asked. The spirit growled aloud.**(1) **

_"I never back down from a challenge." _he hissed. To Hermione, he muttered curtly, "I'd rather we spoke of other matters. The old prick gave me enough vivid detailing of that place to make me choke." Hermione shifted uncomfortably, but let the matter drop, for something else had just hit her.

"Oh no, you're starting in fifth year, aren't you? You have four years of catching up to do! I'll lend you my spellbooks, and my notes too." she said hurriedly, already out the door. A few minutes later, she came back dragging a heavy looking trunk.

"Blimey 'Mione, you have all your books with you?" Ron gasped, as the trunk was thrown open to reveal neatly stacked columns of textbooks. Hermione shot him a dirty look, and glanced apologetically at Bakura.

"I don't have every book; only the ones I thought could come in handy. It's mostly Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." she murmured, searching through the collection and pulling out various volumes. She then gathered them up neatly and dropped them onto Bakura's lap, along with a sheaf of parchment that undoubtedly consisted of notes. "Here, these are the first year materials and notes that I have. You should work with these for now." The spirit scowled in distaste at the pile of material. If he had to learn all of this, either he'd have to be stuck in his soul room while Ryou read, or he'd have to actually _study_ himself. It wasn't that Yami no Bakura disliked books- no, it was quite the contrary. The spirit loved books, for he was fascinated by how cheaply they could be obtained in the modern world and also by his host's knowledge of the characters printed within. Even though his memories of his life in Khemet were incomplete and oftentimes blurry, he knew well enough that only scribes and nobles could ever have hoped to read and write. A thief like him would know only a few odd pictographs picked up from tablets and carvings, or from spying on the lessons of noblemen. However, the thrill of being able to read had worn off, and although he still looked upon books with reverence, he had no desire to labor through all of these volumes. So, very reluctantly, the spirit relinquished control back to his host, who was a bit irritated at being made to do all the work, though he wasn't about to complain about having his body back.

"I'd better go back to my room and study." Ryou said, in response to the quizzical looks on the others' faces as he stood up and headed for the door. He uttered a quick, "Thank you," to Hermione before he left to return to his own room.

"'Mione, couldn't you have given them to him later? I wanted to show Bakura how to play Exploding Snap!" Ron moaned. Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms disapprovingly.

"Bakura's going to be joining fifth year. He doesn't have _time_ to play games, Ronald, not when he has to catch up for _four years_ in a little over a month! If he wants to have a chance at reaching our level, he'll need all the time he can get." she snapped at the redhead. Ron scowled, but said nothing, as Hermione was probably right. Harry felt sympathy for Bakura's plight- after today and yesterday, he'd realized just how hard learning from textbooks was. After all, he'd had teachers to help him along when he'd learned the material the albino now had to read.

xxxxxx

Ryou sighed as he pushed open the door to his room, which was dark except for a single shaft of sunlight that came though a small window next to his bed. Set was curled up under the beam of light, trying to take advantage of the bit of warmth that it offered. However, as Ryou entered the room, the gas lamps flared to life, bathing the entire chamber with a lambent glow. He walked over and dropped the stack of books on the bed, where it teetered precariously, threatening to topple over, and wound Set closely around his neck, earning a hiss of appreciation from the cold-blooded reptile. Ryou jumped up onto the mattress, nearly knocking over his wobbling tower of books, which he managed to catch just in time. The first book in the stack was titled, _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration._ Shrugging, he opened the book and began to read.

The text made a surprising amount of sense, although Ryou wasn't sure if he could do the spells in actuality. Besides, he hadn't even gotten a wand yet, and wasn't sure how difficult wand work really was. He was still apprehensive about the magical conductor, for he was afraid that it would react to his shadow magic and disrupt it, or vice versa.

As it turned out, every book relating to spellwork stressed the importance of pronunciation and wand motion. It never really said anything about magical competence, and Ryou only hoped that the fact that he wasn't really a wizard with wizard magic wouldn't hinder him from using their spells. Perhaps shadow magic could be substituted as the energy source. At least, Ryou hoped it could.

By noon, he'd finished the transfiguration book, read half of the _Magical Theory_ book, which he had deemed boring and set aside for later, and was beginning a book titled _Magical Drafts and Potions,_ which he assumed was the text for potions class. It seemed that potions was simply the technique of cooking applied to the accuracy of working with chemical reactions, and Ryou was glad that he was skilled with both. After all, hadn't that Snape man said he was the school's Potions Master? The albino would really rather not piss the man off.

Presently, there was a knock at his door, pulling Ryou's attention away from the book in his hands. He cast his eyes around for a bookmark, lip curling into a frown as he found nothing that could serve as one. He _really_ hated dog-earing books, especially when they weren't even his in the first place! Sighing, he stared at the page number, repeating it over and over again in his head to ensure that he would recall it later. Then he snapped the book shut, stood up, stretching, and opened the door.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley." he greeted as he was faced with the portly Weasley matron.

"Lunch is ready, dear." the red haired woman informed him, smiling slightly before turning and continuing up the stairs, no doubt to call the others down. When Ryou entered the kitchen, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were already seated at the table, exchanging inane banter. The albino sat down tiredly in his usual chair. Just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined those already seated, there was a loud crash outside, and the portrait of Walburga Black, after making sure that Bakura was nowhere in sight, began screaming once more. Sirius and Remus stood and hurried out the door, working together to pull the black velvet curtains back over Sirius' beloved mum.

When they returned, accompanying them was a woman with bubblegum pink hair, apologizing profusely and laughing at her own clumsiness. Yami no Bakura took up his incorporeal spirit form, apparently for no other purpose than to sneer at the woman who couldn't even _see_ him. Ryou fought the urge to roll his eyes, instead focusing attention on the plates of food that were being passed out by Mrs. Weasley. He noticed that there was marginally more food on his plate than on anyone's nearby. He groaned, but Mrs. Weasley only smiled at him.

"You're much too thin!" she muttered in his ear (the one farther away from Set's head). This time, Ryou really did roll his eyes. His actions were mirrored by Harry, who had also received extra food. He then turned to the spirit, who was behind his chair.

_"How am I supposed to eat all of this?" _he demanded. His response was a violent separation from his body as his dark side took over without warning and began to devour his food ravenously. Ryou scowled at the lack of manners the spirit was displaying. After all, he would end up the one judged for it, as it was his body.

Harry watched, bewildered, as Bakura turned to look behind his chair before snapping his head around and shoveling food into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten for days. It just struck him as... _wrong_ for the usually polite boy to eat like a starved animal. Sure, the albino had bursts of anger once in awhile, but the current way he was acting just seemed completely out of character. Harry sighed, spooning some stew into his mouth as he contemplated the strange boy across from him. Bakura just seemed so utterly random! His actions and his words couldn't serve to create a clear picture of his personality, because he so often contradicted himself. Just when Harry was sure he'd figured the albino out, the boy's character would make a 180 degree turn for just the opposite. Never had the Boy-Who-Lived faced someone so strange. Even Voldemort had a discernible personality- it was one he hated, but it was there none the less.

Ron and Hermione didn't seem really worried about Bakura at all. Hermione had suggested possession earlier, but that didn't seem likely. After all, he certainly didn't have someone sticking out of the back of his head, and he didn't own an out of place item like the diary Ginny had had... did he? Harry supposed that he couldn't be sure of what Bakura did or did not own. In any case, he was sure that the albino wasn't working for Voldemort, and he knew that that was all he really needed to know. And like Hermione had said, he was practically a squib, so he couldn't _really_ be much danger, could he? Then again, he'd fought three Death Eaters and taken down two of them all by himself.

But there were the key words: Death Eaters. He was against Voldemort, and that was what really mattered. He was on their side. Suspicions placated for now, Harry settled down to enjoy the rest of his lunch and think about other matters. His ministry hearing was in a week, and he was really not looking forward to it. The notes Hermione and Bakura had compiled were great, but Harry knew just how unfair the Ministry of Magic could be. Now that Bakura was studying to catch up to fifth year level, Hermione was the only one who would be helping with building up his defense, and he felt bad that she had to work alone, for no one else could really understand the content in those law books.

After lunch, Bakura went back upstairs and shut himself in his room without speaking to anyone, plopping down on the mattress and grabbing _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _from the pile of books at the foot of the bed.

_"Spirit, what're you doing?"_ Ryou asked, as the spirit showed no signs of relinquishing control. Yami no Bakura scowled.

_"I'm going to read this and see if there's anything worth learning." _he replied. He cracked open the book, skipped over the forward, and began reading chapter one, which was about major dark wizards throughout history, their favorite spells, and how to defend against them. Most of the time, the best advice was to 'dodge the curse.' The spirit scowled. He had wanted to learn how to actually defend, not how to run away! He flipped through the book, groaning when he saw that most of it was history, theory, or minor jinxes that tickled people, locked their legs together, or made their limbs wobbly. There wasn't even anything that could harm or knock someone out!

Disappointed, Yami no Bakura gave the body back to his host and went to play with the dartboard and collection of knives in his soul room. Ryou sighed despondently, grabbing the potions book he'd been reading earlier and opening it back to where he had left off. No matter how interesting the subject matter, studying got tiresome eventually.

xxxxxx

It had been three days, and Hermione had compiled quite the defense for Harry.**(2)** As she inspected her already perfectly stacked papers once more, she couldn't help but wonder whether it had all been for naught, and if the ministry would overlook it all, like they did with the defense she'd come up for Buckbeak in her third year. Quickly, she pushed these thoughts aside. Better her research be to waste than her friend be without any support. Even if the actual content wasn't useful, the notes and the work that had gone into them were a sign of friendship, and hopefully that would help Harry keep his cool and make it through the hearing. He couldn't be expelled, could he? Besides, if she'd heard correctly, the hearing would be more of a one on one thing with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and shouldn't be too bad...

Hermione sighed, stretching and standing up. She had been sitting in the Black library for most of the past few days, working as hard as she could to make up for lost time. She still couldn't believe that she had actually forgotten about researching for Harry's trial in light of Bakura's arrival- was he _that_ interesting? Sure, the boy had some idiosyncrasies, and spaced out once in awhile, but what did that matter, when Harry's future was on the line? So perhaps Bakura was odd and worth investigating, but it was no excuse for forgetting about Harry. In any case, it didn't matter now, as she'd finished her work and could only hope.

"Hey, Hermione, are you in here?" a soft voice called from the entrance of the library. The door was ajar, and Ryou's snowy white head peeked through the gap.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked. Ryou opened the door fully and stepped inside.

"I've finished the first year books that you gave me..." he muttered shyly." Er, but if you're busy, I guess I'll just go do something else." he added quickly, eying the open books and stack of notes on the table. Hermione shook her head.

"Oh no, I've just finished. I'll go get the second year books then. You've already read through all those books? That's amazing!" She beamed, closing the books she'd been using and stacking them to be shelved later on. She grabbed her precious notes and headed for the door, Ryou following at her heels.

They climbed up the staircase to Hermione's room, and she again produced the trunk full of her spare books. Ryou was again handed a pile of textbooks on similar subjects as before, second year level this time. Thanking Hermione, he hurried down a flight of stairs to his own landing and into his room.

Most of the earlier chapters of the second year books were reiterations of content covered in the first year, so Ryou skimmed over them. Once in awhile, new spells were taught, and the albino duly committed the incantations and wand movements to memory. As he reviewed the books he'd been given, he noticed that there wasn't a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.**(3)** The spirit would not be happy about this.

Sure enough, Yami no Bakura screeched, _"What's wrong with this bloody school!"_ just moments after this revelation, and then began a lengthy and graphic tirade on how he was going to painfully disembowel Albus Dumbledore. Ryou sighed and did his best to ignore his dark spirit, trying to make sense of the second year Charms book, which was difficult as it made references to first year material, and Hermione hadn't had the first year book.

"The Hover Charm (inct. _Wingardium Non_) is similar to the Levitation Charm (inct. _Wingardium Leviosa_) in wand motion. However, the object affected by the charm will continue to hover even as the caster looses concentration..." Ryou read aloud, trying to drown out the spirit's rant. The book was so unhelpful! Since he hadn't read the first year book, he didn't know what the wand motion for _Wingardium Leviosa_ was, and so he hadn't really learned anything! He groaned as he felt a pounding headache making itself known.

_"How am I supposed to get caught up in time for the start of term?" _Ryou moaned mentally. Yami no Bakura finally shut up, finishing his screed with a final few colorful curses.

_"Why don't you ask the girl?"_ he snapped. Ryou was astonished to hear the helpful advice from his dark side, as well as amazed that he hadn't thought of that sooner. He stood, swiftly gathering up the Charms book and hurrying out the door, back up to the landing he'd vacated previously. He found Hermione holed up in her room, reading a hefty tome that probably originated from the Black library, if the dust and musty odor were of any indication.

"Uh, excuse me Hermione, but could you explain a few things for me?" Ryou inquired timidly. Hermione shoved a piece of parchment into her reading material as a bookmark, shutting the volume and placing it on her bed.

"Sure Bakura, what do you need help with?" she asked, standing up and striding over to him.

"Well, the second year Charms book mentions the Levitation Charm, _Wingardium Leviosa,_ and I'm not sure of the correct wand movement for that." he began, showing her the passage he'd been reading. Hermione nodded, taking out her wand and demonstrating the 'swish and flick' motion. It didn't look too difficult to Bakura, and he decided that he could manage it if he needed to- provided that his wand and his magic were actually compatible.

"Anything else?" Hermione inquired impatiently, jolting him out of his slightly apprehensive thoughts. Ryou remembered the lack of Defense Against the Dark Arts books and brought the matter up.

"Yes, I couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a Defense book for second year..." he trailed off as a dark look came upon Hermione's face, and she looked like she wanted to strangle someone. Ryou realized suddenly that although Hermione was definitely angry, he didn't feel nauseous at all. Perhaps he had finally built up immunity to wizard magic; he could only hope. Just then, Hermione's anger seemed to dissipate and she snapped back to her normal self. When she replied, her voice was only a little bit more strained than usual.

"The Defense teacher for our second year taught us nothing, and was completely useless. I did not feel the need to include his books in my repertoire**(4)**." she sniffed. Ryou decided not to ask more, as this teacher seemed to be a sensitive topic for Hermione.

"Oh, well thank you for your help." he said, heading for the door. Hermione nodded, turning back to the book she'd been reading. Ryou's breath hitched as he caught sight of the title, _Ghosts, Spirits, and Possession_. Was she onto him already?

_"Stop panicking, Yadonushi, it's foolish. We'll just have to be more careful from now on, and give them no reason to suspect us."_ Yami no Bakura snarled, reassuring his host in his own sharp, brusque way. Even though they had been said in a scathing tone, Ryou still found comfort and strength from the words, and calmed down instantly. Besides, perhaps the book was merely a coincidence. If so, it wouldn't do to tarry idly in Hermione's doorway staring at it, lest she _really_ become suspicious. He quickly regained his senses and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

For the present time, he had studying to occupy his time, and perhaps if he stopped having 'mood swings' for awhile, people would stop scrutinizing his every move for anything strange.

_"Are you saying that I shouldn't have control?"_ the spirit demanded, having heard his hikari's thoughts. There was no way he would just sit there in the back of his mind and do nothing for a prolonged period of time. He'd had enough of waiting around after three thousand years in the Ring without a host.

_"I guess I can't stop you, but please try not to lose your temper. Remember, you've just as much at stake as I." _Ryou replied tiredly. Having to work keep his 'condition' utterly secret was taking a toll on him. At least back in Domino, he'd never had to tread so carefully, as Yuugi and his friends were aware of his dark spirit and no one else really knew him or cared. Here, he knew that if anyone found out, they would either run from him or try to destroy him. It was not a comforting thought.

xxxxxx

It was the eve of Harry's trial, and Albus Dumbledore was still deliberately ignoring the boy- something that pained him to do, but was necessary for the greater good.**(5) **So the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was resorting to stepping into Number 12, Grimmauld Place in the dead of night, just to avoid disturbing the Boy-Who-Lived. There was a light on in the kitchen, and he found a bleary eyed Nymphadora Tonks, a half asleep Sirius Black, and, surprisingly, one wide awake Ryou Bakura seated at the table, shuffling a deck of cards.

Tonks looked up and tried to seem alert as Dumbledore entered, although she failed for the most part. Sirius let out a snore, his head lolling to the side and hitting the table, causing him to awaken with a groan. Bakura chuckled lowly, dropping the cards and turning to look at the headmaster. His lip curled in a moue of distaste, and the spirit was just about to spout a few choice words at the old man, when he was thrust abruptly and none too gently onto the stone floor of his soul room. On the outside, the body's face took on a surprised look, for Ryou was astonished that he'd managed to push the spirit out of control.

_"Yadonushi! What is this insolence?" _Yami no Bakura shrieked, causing Ryou to grit his teeth. Fortunately, Dumbledore took this all in stride, assuming that the boy was merely surprised to see him. After all, Snape was not the only one to have noticed Ryou Bakura's extremely powerful, nigh impenetrable occlumency shields. Not even Albus Dumbledore could get through them, and although it perturbed him that he could not know the boy's true intentions, the headmaster did like to think the best of people, so he was not too worried.

_"Remaining inconspicuous, remember? That won't last long if you blow up at him _again_." _Ryou told the spirit, who snarled a few curses at him before becoming eerily silent.

"Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm here." Dumbledore began. Tonks nodded, Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Ryou stared at him disinterestedly. The headmaster smiled that wretched smile of his and continued, "Well, I'm here to take Ryou with me for tonight. I have a feeling he'll be needed at Harry's trial."

Tonks returned her head to its previous position resting on her arms when it became apparent that she wasn't involved. Ryou sighed.

"Call me Bakura please, Headmaster." he ground out. The man was starting to get on even _his_ nerves, and he was certainly not familiar enough to be using Ryou's first name. The albino didn't care that this was Britain, not Japan; Dumbledore could at least call him 'Mr. Bakura' or something, even if that made him sound like his father. Besides, if Tonks could get away with being called by her surname, what was wrong with him doing the same?

"Can I come too?" Sirius interjected, cutting off the one-sided glaring match. Dumbledore's face fell into a frown before snapping back into that gentle, annoying smile.

"Sirius m'boy, it's much too dangerous. We don't need you caught!" he exclaimed. Ryou cringed visibly. The hypocorism was painfully similar to one he knew, and he was suddenly struck with the disturbing mental image of Pegasus' corpse in Dumbledore's robes and hat, bloody, gaping hole where the Millennium Eye once was. The knowledge that the thing was in his pocket at the moment made him want to retch.

_"I licked it clean, Yadonushi. There's nothing to worry about."_ **(6) **the spirit said suddenly. Ryou's eyes widened, and the urge to hurl increased tenfold. To think that the spirit had _licked_ the eyeball that was _once in someone's head_ clean, using Ryou's body and his tongue nonetheless... well, 'ew' summed it up pretty well. Apparently, his sick appearance had not been overlooked, for Dumbledore bent over to scrutinize him.

"Ry- Mr. Bakura, are you alright?" he asked. Ryou nodded, forcibly relegating all of the disgusting thoughts to the back of his mind and focusing on the present. He noticed that the headmaster had at least attempted to set things to rights, and was calling him Mr. Bakura now. Well, at least the man wasn't a complete prick. Once Ryou assured him that he was fine, Dumbledore turned back to Sirius and leveled a solemn gaze at him, effectively cutting off whatever protest the man was about to give. Sirius scowled and returned to dozing off on the table, either too lazy to drag his ass to bed, or wanting to be up to greet Harry in the morning but not trusting himself to be able to wake in time. The latter seemed more probable, and Ryou had to commend the man for his devotion if that was the reason.

Dumbledore tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him out of his idle reverie and prompting him to stand. Ryou carefully slid his deck into the compartment on his belt and followed the headmaster quietly out the door. The multitude of locks clicked undone seemingly under nothing more than a commanding glare from Dumbledore, and the door flew open by itself.

_"Show off."_ the spirit snarled from within. Ryou fought the urge to roll his eyes and continued after the eccentric headmaster.

"Now, I daresay you've never apparated before?" He smiled knowingly at the curiosity that a glint in Ryou's eyes revealed, although the boy's demeanor was guarded. "Just grab on tightly to my arm, and you'll be fine. Unsure, Ryou decided to go along with what the headmaster said, clutching the man's left arm tightly. Suddenly, the world went black, and he felt like he was being forced through a rubber tube that was much too small. Just when he thought he was surely going to choke, a fresh breeze greeted his deprived lungs and he swallowed the crisp night air hungrily before turning and glaring at Dumbledore, who smiled what he assumed was apologetically, although really it looked just like his usual irritatingly fake kindly visage.

"What was that?" he hissed, at least as menacing as his spirit on a good day. Yami no Bakura seemed to be in a very aloof and uncaring mood at the moment, for he hadn't done anything for while, and didn't even surface to sneer at the old man for doing something like that.

"Ah, the sensation of apparation takes some time to get used to. I apologize." Dumbledore said. Ryou sighed, looking around and taking in his surroundings. It looked like they were in an ordinary part of London. Next to them was a strange, rather out of place phone booth, and across the street was a hotel. Ryou assumed that the building was their destination, and he was quickly proved correct as they crossed the busy avenue and entered the welcoming warmth of the hotel structure.

At the reception desk, Dumbledore checked into the hotel and received his room key, acting all the while as if he'd been doing this all his life. As Ryou stepped inside and made to go to bed, he briefly wondered why they were staying in a 'muggle' establishment when wizards obviously liked to hole themselves up in their own magical world, with their own inns and taverns.

xxxxxx

Ryou's last idle wondering before he'd gone to bed the night before was answered at dawn the next day. The phone booth that they had... apparated next to was actually a gateway into the Ministry of Magic. Well, didn't that just figure? Apparently, as visitors to the ministry, they were required to state their business and then pin their badges on their chests declaring the purpose of their visit.

The telephone booth seemed to be like a sort of elevator, and it lowered them down into the underground establishment of the magical government. Ryou heard the spirit chuckle in the recesses of his mind.

_"Well, isn't that just fitting? An underground government for an underground world."_ Yami no Bakura cackled. Ryou couldn't help but agree with his dark side. For a group who considered themselves so superior, wasn't it rather detracting of their image to have their very government center not even be above the ground? Behind the front desk sat a grumpy looking man who gave Ryou a glare.

"Wand." he snapped. Ryou shuffled nervously.

"Ah, Mr. Bakura currently does not possess a wand due to certain circumstances." Dumbledore said glibly. The man's glare multiplied in intensity and his nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Whatever. Go on then." he groused. Dumbledore gave a charming smile and they set off.

"Now, Mr. Bakura, I have a hunch that the hearing's been rescheduled. I suppose I'll have to ask around." he said cheerily, heading for the lifts and jabbing the button on the wall. The golden grilles slid open, and they hurried into the elevator. A cool female voice announced each floor as they passed, occasionally letting in witches, wizards, or charmed paper airplanes. They emerged on level two, where Dumbledore ushered for them to leave the lift. They hurried down a few hallways and finally came upon a small, cluttered office where a wispy haired old man sat nervously behind a desk.

"Oh Albus, did you hear! Potter's hearing's been rescheduled- it's already started, it's down in Courtroom Ten-" the man was cut off as Dumbledore nodded urgently and dragged Ryou back towards the lift. This time, they went lower down, stopping at what the lift's announcing voice declared to be the 'Department of Mysteries.' The headmaster strode out into the corridor at a brisk pace as soon as the grilles opened, and Ryou sprinted to keep up. They finally emerged outside a dirty door marked with a small '10' that was nearly smothered in grime.

Dumbledore threw open the door and announced, "-Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." After that, Ryou heard no more as the door slammed shut.

"Oh, er, what was your name, boy?" a familiar voice asked. Ryou whirled around, coming face to face with none other than his neighbor, Mrs. Figg.

"Erm, my name's Ryou Bakura, but I prefer just Bakura." he said to the lady. "You're Mrs. Figg, right?" She nodded, giving a wan smile.

"I just hope Harry makes it. I don't believe these people, holding a full trial for something so trivial..." she trailed off, glaring at the door. Again, Ryou realized that he felt no pain from her annoyance. Perhaps he _had_ gotten over his sensitivity! If so, that was a welcome development.

The pair stood awkwardly outside the door, both unable to think of anything to talk about. Soon enough however, Mrs. Figg was called in to be a witness. Two or three minutes later, she exited, looking worried and gave him a smile as a red haired teen who looked a lot like a Weasley came and retrieved Ryou.

He saw that Harry Potter was sitting in a chained chair, which looked altogether uncomfortable, despite the fact that the chains hung limply and did not restrain him. Harry looked extremely surprised at his presence, but apparently thought better of commenting.

"Full name!" a portly man at the center seat barked out at Ryou. Yami no Bakura suddenly took over, standing straight and gazing lazily at the man. Ryou was surprised, as the spirit had been dormant for awhile. What had caused him to suddenly take control?

_"That man... I don't like the look of him, or the woman next to him, hiding in the shadows."_ the Dark Bakura hissed at his host.

"Ryou Bakura." the spirit said clearly and tonelessly. Fudge raised his eyebrows.

"Who exactly are you?" he asked, repeating the questions he'd shot at the first witness.

"I'm a wizard from Japan. I recently moved in across the street from one Harry Potter." he intoned smoothly, all the while imitating his host's voice but retaining his own cold demeanor.

"Hmph. Your story?" Fudge demanded.

_"What happened, Yadonushi? I was cut off when they came."_ Yami no Bakura muttered to his host, waiting impatiently for a response. To all those on the outside, it seemed as if he was taking a deep breath to ready himself. Ryou obligingly showed his memories to the spirit, who almost winced- almost being the key word. After all, he wasn't _that_ careless.

"I was following Potter and his muggle oaf of a cousin, when suddenly, the streetlights shut off, the night became black as pitch, and the stars and moon seemed to wink out. An overwhelming chill grew over the area, and I couldn't help but be scared out of my wits." he began distastefully, trying his best to sound like timid Ryou. "You see, I'd never experienced something like it before, since Japan isn't very magically active, and I didn't know what to do. I was struck by terrible memories; they flooded my system, weakened me. I couldn't even bear to move."

He fought the urge to smirk as he saw half of the witches and wizards seated nod at his words, including the monocled witch beside the man who he found untrustworthy. Said man spoke again.

"What did you remember?" he demanded. Some of the other magicians seemed surprised at such a personal question. However, Yami no Bakura had no qualms about revealing half truths.

"I remembered the day when my mother and sister died. I remembered when my hand was impaled on a very sharp tower spike." he held up his hand, showing the dark scar to all. Everyone looked shocked at this. "I remembered one particularly bad stab wound I contracted not too long ago, and a chest wound as well. I could almost _feel_ the pain again, all at the same time."

The spirit was pleased to see that the stupid man who had asked looked very uncomfortable at the moment. He continued his narrative.

"Well, after that, suddenly, everything became lighter. I opened my eyes, and I saw something silver, like an ethereal animal, chasing off the dementors. It got the one attacking the fat mo-muggle boy just in time, he looked like he was about to be kissed or something." At this, most of the Wizengamot gasped. The spirit knew that he had nearly said 'mortal boy' instead of 'muggle boy,' and thanked the gods that he had been paying attention to his words and that the wizards were distracted. He shrugged. "And that's what happened."

As he turned to leave, he heard the beginnings of the argument between Dumbledore and who he now knew was the Minister of Magic. He took his time, walking ever so slowly, slowly enough to still be in the courtroom as the witch who's face had previously been in shadow leaned forward to speak. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, and what he descried sickened even him. He, who had killed many in disgusting ways, tortured men until they could scream no more, and enjoyed it all the while, was utterly _revolted_ by this woman. She was pudgy, with eyes that seemed to be bulging out of her face, and looked just like a toad. A small black bow sat atop her short curls, like a fat fly. She spoke in a high pitched, girlish voice that grated on his nerves, and Yami no Bakura had the sudden urge to stab her repeatedly and leave her to bleed to death in a dumpster. Or perhaps use that illegal wizard curse that caused terrible pain. He couldn't really remember the incantation that Ghoul-like man had spoken... it was something like _Crucify _or _Cursio... _no, _Crucio_, that had been it, he was sure of it. Pity, he had no wand at the moment.

_"Spirit, why did they attack us in the first place?"_ Ryou inquired. As soon as his host had asked, Yami no Bakura realized that he'd been wondering the same for awhile now.

_"I have no idea. But I aim to find out."_

xxxxxx

Why be there more Author Notes?: Meh, well, I decided to end this here. Sorry peeps, but Diagon Alley will be next chapter. School starts tomorrow! I should still be able to find writing time, homework can't take that long, can it? Haha...

Footnotes (The heck with all these footnotes?):

1. Lol, it sorta rhymes! And also, this is a pathetic attempt to fix the plot hole that Jerex pointed out.  
2. Yes, I skipped a whole 3 days, and will be skipping more later! Otherwise, this chapter would end up being about absolutely nothing, and that wouldn't be very interesting.  
3. Two things: When I looked at the HP book, the list it gave consisted of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and all of Lockhart's books, and nothing else. I assume that since Fred and George said something after this, Harry was simply cut off and the list not mentioned again. There hopefully _were_ still Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions books, after all... And of course, the reason there are no DADA books is because Lockhart is a fake prick, and Hermione never would've kept his books.  
4. While repertoire generally refers to a supply of skill or abilities required for a certain profession or task, in this case it's being used to mean 'supply' or 'collection' in general. I know it's a weird and broad usage, but it was the only word I could think of.  
5. I don't think Dumbles ever got over Grindelwald. He still goes for the greater good, though perhaps his definition of it may have changed a little. And yes, I skipped more days!  
6. Reference to the scene cut from the dub after Duelist Kingdom in the anime, where Bakura licks the Eye for no apparent reason. It wasn't actually bloody or anything, but let's just pretend it was, because otherwise how'd it get all clean? 4kids probably cut it out because it looked too erotic... XD And yes, Pegasus died according to the manga, and I think it's better that way. And if you'll recall, Pegasus loved to give everyone the -boy pet names. Yuugi-boy, Kaiba-boy, etc. Hypocorism = Pet name, in case you didn't know.


	6. Underground Guilt Trip

Author Notes: OMG OMG OMG DX!! Sorry for taking absolutely forever, and coming up with a relatively short chapter at that. Most of this was written while I was half asleep, so forgive me if the imagery is crap. :3 Thank you, all my readers! You guys are awesome! And I appreciate the feedback from you fabulous reviewers too. For those of you who simply favorited or put this story on alerts, I'll assume you liked it (otherwise, why'd you be reading it?!) Haha... Well, updates may be even slower than this one in the future. Usually, I've got free time only over the weekend and late at night, but sometimes I'm too lazy to write. X.x Well, enjoy this chapter here, after my anon review responses and disclaimer.

To Sue axel: Thanks for the cookie :D! Sorry I didn't manage to update in anything reminiscent of soon.

To maria: Bakura isn't robbing Gringotts, but again, thank you for the contribution. I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter.

To Elaendorlien: Haha, you just hate Snape? I lol'd at that, because he is very hateable, ins't he? But he's adorable too :3. Okay yeah, enough about that, I'm happy you liked the story so much. And your English is just fine, it's a hard language to learn, and you're doing great.

To banners: !!!!You reviewed :D! Haha, it's so random, and I don't even know why I'm bothering to reply it here (maybe cuz I won't see you til next week?). Lol poetic, dramatic, I got freaking carried away DX. But pain is yummy, and Fudge got creeped out. Authoress' indulgence in comic relief. O_O Dumbles... and Bakura... I didn't think about it that way, but if you look at it, it kinda wor-- *dies*

Disclaimer: OMNOMNOM! I don't own Harry Potter or Yu-Gi-Oh! If I did, I wouldn't be wasting my time writing fanfiction.

"Speech"  
_"Telepathy"  
'Thoughts'  
_**(Footnote Number)**

I've decided to use -- instead of -, even though the computer won't format it into a dash.**  
**  
xxxxxx

Bakura assumed that the trial was over when Dumbledore swept out of the courtroom, utterly ignoring everyone, including the frantic Weasley man who had nearly pounced upon him for the verdict, but hadn't managed to elicit any response. After the aloof old man came Harry Potter, looking slightly dazed. The various long robed members of the Wizengamot, as well Fudge, the disgusting toad female, the boy who looked Weasley, and the monocled witch flooded out of the room a few second later.

Mr. Weasley turned to gaze at Harry like a lost puppy, eyes wide and clearly dying to know how the hearing had gone. He was rewarded with a, "Cleared. Of all charges." and broke into an exuberant smile.

"Well then, what're we waiting for? Let's get going!" he exclaimed, grabbing Harry and Bakura and dashing down the hall, away from the musty courtroom. Yami no Bakura snorted, wrenching his arm from the elated man's grasp, causing the Potter boy to smile wryly. He would follow the Weasel and Harry, but he refused to be _touched. _The procession made its way through the winding halls of the ministry. Bakura pursed his lips doubtfully at Arthur Weasley's back. The man had better know where he was going!

As they walked, Cornelius Fudge and a tall man with smooth white blond hair and a pale, cunning face came into view. The man turned as they approached, chilling gray eyes narrowed in a glare at Harry's face. Bakura stood by casually, carefully observing the man. He bore a striking resemblance to that boy-- Draco Malfoy-- who he'd met at the clothing shop in Diagon Alley. Perhaps this was his father?

"Well, well, well... Patronus Potter." **(1)** the man said coolly. Harry glared at him, and they exchanged a few scathing words. The man then turned to Mr. Weasley. It was plain that they disliked each other very much, for every word that came out of the man's mouth was mocking and derisive. He then let his eyes brush over Bakura, who returned his gaze with an indifferent, red-eyed stare. He nodded, turning to leave with the Minister.

Harry and Mr. Weasley fumed as they headed for the lifts. They discussed the man's reasons for being seen with the Minister. Personally, Bakura didn't see what was so bad about it. So, perhaps the man was bribing the ministry. Well? The magical government was corrupt enough already. What did it matter if there was more wrongdoing?

"...Oh, he's very well connected, Lucius Malfoy..." Bakura's lips curved upward in a smirk as he heard the tail end of Mr. Weasley's muttered rant. So the man _had_ been related to Draco Malfoy. Well, that was convenient. After all, Draco seemed to get along well with him. It would certainly be advantageous to have a man like his father on his side. His secret would be safer-- friends tended to believe the best of each other, after all. Yes, influential acquaintances were a must.

Eventually, the lift made it all the way back up to the Atrium. They passed the man at the front desk, Eric, and exited the building once more through the phone booth. The train ride back was uneventful, although Bakura did enjoy the sight of Mr. Weasley obsessing over the ticket barriers-- this time not out of order.

Yami no Bakura remained in control the entire time, unwilling to lose his temporary respite from boredom, despite how uninteresting the surroundings were. He didn't care, for any place was better than his soul room. That wasn't to say that Bakura didn't like his soul room, it was merely that tarrying in one's own mind without exposure to the real world for a long time wasn't healthy.

He felt a twinge of... something in his abdominal area. At first he thought the nausea caused by wizarding magic had returned. However, this didn't feel the same, and so he doubted it was, but it was recognizable... When exactly had he felt it before? It must have been very long ago, for the familiarity danced around him darkly and playfully like an ephemeral mist that he could not grasp.

Suddenly, it hit him, like a crashing wave, and the feeling twisted his gut painfully. Guilt. Bakura's face took on a shocked visage, and it was fortunate that Harry and Mr. Weasley were deep in conversation beside him, and did not take notice. Guilt. Guilt, he had not really felt that-- that emotion for three thousand years, and he knew that statistic to be true. Sure, once in awhile he'd regret what he'd done, due to shame or disadvantages caused, but never because of some moral issue, and that's what this felt like... The spirit licked his dry lips before closing his eyes and calming himself outwardly, though he was still in full panic within.

Why was he feeling guilty? What was he even feeling guilty for? He turned his memory back to what he'd been thinking of before the spasm of that emotion he'd thought he'd lost the weakness of having. Remorse, morality, conscience-- those were all things that cropped up to undermine a person like him, and he had been so sure that he'd stamped them out of his system. Bakura clenched his teeth, shaking his head slowly. He'd been thinking about soul rooms, and boredom, and health... he felt it again. It was Ryou, Bakura realized. As soon as he'd thought of that, he'd subconsciously associated it with Ryou.

Bakura stared down at his hands in wonder, as if seeing them for the first time. So he'd had an epiphany. He cared genuinely about Ryou, and not just the body or the hikari's cooperation. So what? There'd been blatant signs, he'd practically admitted it before, at least to himself. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with caring for his light, since Ryou was technically him. And there really wasn't. In fact, the Pharaoh would probably commend him for it. He wouldn't taunt him, or laugh in his face for being weak...

Wait. Where were these thoughts coming from? Yami no Bakura blinked rapidly and covered his face with his sweaty palms. What was happening to him? Of course the Pharaoh would make fun of him, that was what he was like! He hated the Pharaoh, and the sentiment was returned. That was how it was. Of course. The spirit took a few deep breaths, and finally composed himself.** (2) **

There was nothing to regret or feel guilty of. What happened in the past was useless to brood over, it was the present and the future that should be taken into account, thought about, and planned for. Besides, Ryou, being the hikari he was, had probably forgiven him long ago. And with this train of thought, Bakura managed to goad the self-assured smirk back onto his face. To the other two occupants of the train compartment, who had completely missed his mental breakdown, he appeared as smug as always.

"We're here." Mr. Weasley declared as the train stopped. By this time, Yami no Bakura was sufficiently close to being back to normal, and managed an exaggerated eye roll to accompany the obvious statement. Harry snickered, and all appeared to be well.

From the train station, they caught a cab, and in no time at all they were back before the space between numbers 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place. As soon as they turned their gazes towards the innocent looking gap, Number 12 Grimmauld Place began shoving its way into the tiny space, growing out of thin air like some sort of distorted house-shaped tumor.

Mr. Weasley tapped the door with his wand and a barrage of clicks could be heard even from the outside, no doubt the product of the many locks flipping open. The door swung inwards of its own volition, and the three entered the house, only to be greeted with a burst of inquiry and chattering. As soon as Harry declared that he'd gotten off, he was pounced upon by his friends, and dragged further inside, likely for a celebration party.

Yami no Bakura was tired. He was still slightly perturbed from his mental experience on the train, and he had the urge to contemplate it some more, preferably where he would not be disturbed. As everyone was fussing over Harry Potter, no one noticed one thin albino slink away, up the stairs to the second floor landing, and turn silently into the dark hallway. Bakura opened the second door he reached, and entered the now-familiar comfort of his room.

As he plopped down on the bed with a sigh, a scaly black head rose from the folds of the duvet. Beady black eyes scrutinized him, and their owner flicked his forked tongue out to taste the air. Bakura extended his hand to stroke the snake, but pulled it back again quickly and with a slight yelp as Set sank his teeth into his fingers. Pitch black, reptilian eyes that gleamed with intelligence locked with his own, and conveyed a world of both encouragement and reprimand. The spirit swiveled his gaze and stared down thoughtfully at the glistening blood that dripped down his hands, momentarily enraptured by the tantalizing color and the way the flickering gas lamps caused it to scintillate darkly. He shook himself out of his reverie and let his hand fall.

"You're right Set. I need to clear my mind." he whispered hoarsely. The snake hissed and withdrew into his rudimentary nest. Bakura sat for a minute longer, lost in his thoughts, before he returned his attention to his slightly throbbing hand. It looked a mess, and he knew that if anyone else in the house saw it, they would surely overreact, either smothering him with unwanted care or denouncing Set's worth. He couldn't have either of those now, could he? And he didn't want to risk leaving his room to go to the bathroom, lest someone spot him-- although that did not seem too probable. So the spirit carefully licked away the excess blood that had congealed upon his skin, making sure to bypass the actual wound. The telltale coppery taste and scent assaulted his senses, but he ignored any revulsion and instead concentrated upon the sick sense of contentment that blossomed within his gut. Bakura was thankful that Set's bite was not poisonous. It would be terribly problematic if Ryou woke to find himself poisoned... no, that wouldn't do at all.

Waking up to ordinary wounds of varied shapes and sizes was typical, however, and as he regained consciousness, Ryou first became aware of the light stinging sensation at his fingertips, which he could feel but not move, signifying that the spirit currently controlled the body. He scowled mentally, deciding that he didn't even want to know. If it wasn't fatal, it didn't really warrant any attention, and that was the creed he'd lived by ever since the spirit had awoken and begun wreaking havoc on a regular basis. The spirit didn't seem to mind explaining, however, and brought up the subject at once, all on his own.

_"Set bit me-- us."_

_"What?"_ Ryou voiced in disbelief.

_"I was... brooding--"_ the spirit began reluctantly, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the rather negative connotations of the word he'd chosen to use, _"--and Set noticed, so he bit me."_

_"That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard!"_ Ryou muttered crossly.

_"Take it as you will, it doesn't matter to me. By the way, since you fell asleep, Potter came out of the hearing in one piece. I can't say I was surprised; he had the old coot, Dumbledore on his side. We've seen first hand how shamelessly manipulative he can be."_ Bakura replied. He felt Ryou's mental nod, but after that the other end of the mental link fell silent. The spirit stood and strolled out of his and Ryou's room, heading downstairs for the party that was undoubtedly still in progress. It wouldn't be advantageous to appear too antisocial, not when he was beginning to gain the trust of those at Grimmauld Place. Attending Harry Potter's get-out-of-jail-free party was certainly an easy way to earn more rapport with the Order and Harry's friends. Bakura would have to be blind, deaf, and brainless to miss such an opportunity and also potentially lose his hard earned brownie points.

He'd planned on sneaking in unnoticed, but one pink-haired Tonks was in his way. She stood at the foot of the stairs, thankfully facing away from him. Bakura clenched his teeth in annoyance and turned his gaze past the chipped, aged staircase railing, towards the front hall, which was in full view. The second floor was almost like some sort of balcony. Briefly, he wondered if--

_"Don't even think about it! This is my body you're putting into jeopardy!"_ Ryou screamed. The spirit smirked at the outburst, but turned away to look for a better way to get downstairs unseen. Besides, jumping down was perhaps not the very inconspicuous. He supposed he'd just have to use his profound abilities at sneaking...

Bakura streaked down the stairs like a bullet, stopping just a hair's breadth away from the back of Tonks' head. He inched towards the right and leaned casually on the wall. If he stayed long enough, no one would remember that he hadn't been there all along. People were just like that-- the spirit knew, he'd had experience breaking uninvited into celebrations, both in crashing parties for fun and in infiltrating enemy bases while their guards were down. As predicted, the rowdy, gleeful occupants were much more interested in Harry than he, and soon enough, Bakura was able to slip into the proceedings unnoticed. No one even appeared to have realized him missing for the previous half hour... although that wasn't saying much, as only one or two people were actually in the entrance hall.

On the sidelines (apparently having been kicked out of the kitchen), Ginny, Fred, and George were doing something reminiscent of the cha-cha, all the wile chanting, "He got off! He got off!" Evidently, they were referring to Harry's victory over the Ministry's goons. Bakura sneered at the ridiculous procession before seeking out his own corner to recline in, and watched the proceeding quietly. Most of the party was still in the kitchen, no doubt stuffing themselves with Mrs. Weasley's cooking. Bakura blinked rapidly as the aforementioned Weasley matron plowed through the room, knocking over wayward stragglers, heading straight towards his corner.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you! You didn't show up at lunch, you must be hungry." she exclaimed, all in that annoying motherly tone of hers. She dragged him into the kitchen and bade him sit, piling tremendous amounts of food before him. Bakura scowled as he heard a repressed snort at the back of his mind.

_"What?"_ he snarled mentally. The chuckling was now easily audible to his mind's ears, and his scowl deepened.

_"Your skills aren't so great after all, are they?"_ Ryou replied calmly, a hint of smugness tinting his voice. Bakura was affronted at the audacity of that statement. How dare Ryou criticize him? That-- that was the equivalent of insulting himself. They were the same person, after all... The spirit had a sudden urge to hole himself up in his soul room to nurse his wounded ego. But that was also known as sulking, and Yami no Bakura didn't _sulk_, not in that way.

_"This is distinctly different from the technique for robbing a tomb. Here, I am expected, and may be missed. When stealing things, one is generally not anticipated to be there, and even if they are, they will not be missed if they are not. Simply put, I wish to be seen in the party in this case, and not hidden. While it is possible, even easy to break unnoticed into a heavily guarded area, it is impossible to determine whether or not your _absence_ from somewhere you're supposed to be will be noted. Thievery is my profession and where my skill lies, not creating clones of myself." _he told his hikari, keeping the indignant tones in his voice to a minimum.

_"Actually, you _can,_ in essence, create a clone of yourself. You could've left me here with the body while you went to think." _Ryou returned smartly, taking advantage of the slight logical fallacy of his dark side's speech. Yami no Bakura growled in frustration.

_"You were asleep, Yadonushi!"_ he snapped tersely, deciding not to say more lest he reveal any other holes in his argument. Rhetoric had never been his strong point, for only the nobility of Khemet were ever trained in the subtle arts of speech, and even then only rarely.**(3)** Such things were more often valued in the land across the sea from whence it originated, the place that Bakura now knew was collectively called Greece.

There was no response, other than a projected self-assurance that wasn't his nestled at the back of his mind. Bakura closed his eyes and took a deep breath to restore the apathetic mask upon his face. He then reached for his fork before pulling back quickly as he spied the two angry red marks on his right hand where Set's fangs had buried themselves into his flesh. It was important that he concealed them from potentially curious and presumptuous eyes. He took up his cutlery with his left hand instead and began eating, if somewhat clumsily. Once he'd gotten the hang of it, it was relatively easy, and soon he was wolfing down the contents of his plate at his usual speed. Licking his lips, he stood quickly and darted out of the kitchen before Mrs. Weasley could come around and potentially force more food upon him. Despite his love of a good feast once in awhile, Bakura knew it was not pragmatic to stuff himself to the brim. It slowed his reflexes and made him lazy, and that wasn't advantageous when he could be turned upon at any time.

Well, perhaps he couldn't be attacked at any moment, but it was always better to be on his guard. As the saying goes, you never know...

"Hey Bakura." Harry's voice sounded behind him. Bakura turned lazily and nodded at him.

"Yes?" he inquired, trying to be polite. His host was wrong in assuming he did not have etiquette. It was merely that he did not often need or wish to exert effort to seem refined, since his usual dealings were with either so-called "friends," enemies, or common criminals. However, this was a unique situation where it would not be detrimental to have some manners, for his aim was to gain the trust and "friendship" of these wizards, especially their Chosen One or whatever Potter was, so that he could blend in without suspicion. After all, since the turgid old man who called himself the headmaster of a school had plowed over his arguments and forced him to attend the magic school, he would have to seem as normal as possible, at least until he could find a way out the mess he'd gotten himself into.

"Well, nothing really." Harry said sheepishly. "I was just wondering if you wanted to talk."

Bakura had to resist the urge to say something scathing at such an inane request, or to roll his eyes. _'I am an ordinary, mortal teenager. I am an _ordinary, mortal _teenager.'_ he repeated to himself mentally. "Sure." he replied, when he felt sufficiently calmed from his annoyance. Like the _ordinary mortal teenager_ he was, Harry Potter grinned at this.

"Great, so I've been meaning to ask you something. Back when the dementors attacked, you said something about having lost your soul before..." he began.

_"You said what? Yami, I don't believe it!" _Ryou shrieked in disbelief. There was no response from his dark side, and Ryou assumed he was coming up with an excuse.

In fact, Yami no Bakura had actually completely missed his light's outburst. While Bakura appeared at ease on the outside, his brain was working in overdrive to come up with an answer to Harry's question. It didn't help that wayward insulting thoughts like, _'This boy doesn't understand subtle,' _or_ 'What kind of question is that?'_ kept running through his head. It didn't matter that the question had no tact whatsoever; he would have to answer it somehow, or risk being suspected of artifice. Lying was a dangerous task, and one had to be extremely careful when spinning untruthful tales. Bakura knew full well that if he wasn't extremely meticulous in remembering everything he'd said, he would weave himself a death trap of lies that would catch him and pin him to the wall, defenseless when he needed cover most. Seeing that Potter looked expectant, and he was taking a ridiculous amount of time to answer, he decided to go for something succinct.

"I have." Bakura finally said, imitating his host's timid demeanor and purposely shifting on his feet, as if he were uncomfortable with the subject.

"How? I thought Japan was nonmagical." Harry asked again. The spirit tensed his facial muscles, trying his best not to let a scowl or other expression of distaste show. The Potter boy really didn't know when to stop, did he? And Bakura couldn't do _anything_ about it. He struggled to think of an acceptable response. As far as he knew, dementors were the only things that could take souls in the wizarding world. Otherwise, why would the subject be so horrifying? If wizard magic could take away people's souls, he doubted something like the killing curse would be so feared. Whenever the spirit sealed a soul away, or sent it through the Doors of Darkness into the depths of a penalty game, he knew he was inflicting a fate much worse than death, and he enjoyed every scream and terrified expression he'd caused. He knew first-hand that killing, though also enjoyable, brought much less thrill than subjugating someone's soul to hellish torment, or even simply removing it. Bakura also knew that he could not say he'd been kissed by a dementor, because first of all, a soul lost into oblivion could not be recovered, and he'd also obviously never met one of the creatures before his encounter with them in Little Whinging.

"While I was vacationing in Egypt, I stumbled upon a cursed trap that apparently transported my soul to something like limbo. It took my friend and many other wizards to get me out. I don't really like to talk about it though." he whispered hurriedly, giving a fake shiver. Bakura figured that it would be impossible to disprove that, for it was true that many Egyptian tombs were filled to the brim with curses. Incidentally, the spirit knew how to bypass them all, but Potter need not know that. Any amateur thief or explorer was sure to be caught in the torturous and oftentimes deadly traps. Harry's face paled at this, and he nodded slowly.

"Oh, er, alright then. Sorry about that." he muttered uncertainly. Harry felt a little guilt at his previous suspicion of Bakura. He was weird, albino, and had mood swings. So what? The kid had probably had a bad past, and it wasn't his right to pry. As for why he'd been vacationing in Egypt, well, it seemed to be a popular place for wizarding people, or those who knew wizards, to go. After all, Ron's family had gone there before, and his brother was a curse breaker. And now, Harry could see why they _needed_ curse breakers.

"Well, if there's not anything else, I should probably go study." Bakura murmured, before turning around and hightailing it up the stairs before Harry could respond. He cursed himself for saying _'if there's not anything else,'_ which could have potentially gotten him into more trouble if the boy had actually had something else to ask. Rather than waiting to see, he decided that it was better to just give no opportunity for there to be any further prodding.

He nearly sighed in relief (nearly, as sighing in relief would signify that he had been panicking before, and Bakura hated to admit he ever panicked) as he reached his room, plopping down on the bed he'd previously vacated. Set was again curled up under the covers, although the snake was asleep this time. To keep up the pretense of 'going to study,' as well as to have something to occupy his time, he grabbed the second year potions book and skimmed through it. Although the prospect of school, and one in the magical community at that, irritated him, Bakura was not an indolent or half-witted soul. If he was going to get something done, he would get it done right. And at the moment, it seemed as though he would be forced into attending perhaps even an entire year of this accursed magic academy, so he might as well be prepared for it.

Nonetheless, the spirit had never been the studious type, and it proved difficult for him to get through the thick, drab texts. He tried switching to history, which started out interesting, until Bakura realized that the entire book was about goblin wars and had nothing of _wizard_ history in it. After another few hours of this, he sighed, falling back out of his body into his soul room, exhausted. It had been a busy day, and he needed sleep. As Ryou had been resting sporadically throughout the day, Yami no Bakura decided that he could continue with the studying if he wished to. The spirit himself would be getting some mental respite.

xxxxxx

The holidays had passed in a blur of reading and occasional foolish banter. It was the day before term began, and Ryou was greeted with Hermione handing him a letter, which she informed him was a booklist.**(4)** Evidently, they were meant to arrive long before the _last day of the holidays_, but this was when they'd came, so it was what would have to be dealt with. He wasn't sure what was in it, although he assumed it was textbooks for fifth year, as the school supplies list that had come with his acceptance letter hadn't included any reading material. Mrs. Weasley was going to go shopping for their supplies.

In any case, it seemed that the big news of the day was that Ron had become a prefect. Apparently, prefects had certain administrative powers in that they could give and take house points, as well as confiscate items and tell people off. Ryou was a lot more knowledgeable about Hogwarts now, after more than a month of poring over Hermione's book stash and pretty much catching up to fifth year level. In any case, the reason Ron's becoming of a prefect was unexpected and to be celebrated was because everyone had expected _Harry_ to get the badge. Personally, Ryou felt that Harry didn't need any more stress, and that it was good that Ron had become a prefect instead. Yami no Bakura was of the opinion that the manipulative old fool Dumbledore was killing two birds with one stone, quelling any of Ron's jealousy with the honor of the prefect badge as well as making sure Harry didn't get himself killed, by elevating his two best friends to higher positions where they could reprimand and watch over him.

It was obvious that the Weasley matron was overjoyed that her youngest son had gotten the badge just like all her other sons (except of course, the twins). She was even going to get Ron a new broom, something which was rare in the Weasley family where money was scarce. However, she had refused to let them go to Diagon Alley with her, and probably for good reason. There was always potential danger, and, in any case, those headed for Hogwarts the next day needed to pack.

"Bakura dear, you're coming with me." Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the other side of Ryou's bedroom door. He sat up, surprised, as he'd assumed that she'd already left.

"What?" he returned, confused. She had explicitly told the other children in the house that they would not be going with her. Molly opened the door a crack and peered in.

"Dumbledore wanted you to get better acquainted with the magical world, and he thinks that a good trip to Diagon is the way. Personally, I'm not sure, with You-know-who at large right now, but he insisted that you'd be fine..." she muttered, trailing off. Yami no Bakura snorted in the back of Ryou's mind.

_"Oh yes. Now that he's got us safely in his hands, _now_ he's just peachy with us wandering about. I don't believe that--"_ Ryou bit his lip as his dark side uttered a very unkind phrase in description of the headmaster.

"Alright then." Ryou replied, standing gracefully and snatching up his booklist and scanning it over. It was relatively long, compared to those of the others, who'd commented that they had only two new books. Apparently, Ryou had been assigned more books to help him transition better, or so the letter that had come with the list said.

_"Oh, so the old coot has some consideration for our well being."_ the spirit muttered cynically. Ryou sighed and followed Mrs. Weasley down the stairs. At the bottom, they were detained by Ginny, who was complaining loudly about the unfairness of _Bakura_ getting to go out, while she was stuck at home. After spending a disproportionate amount of time arguing with her daughter, Molly Weasley finally won out, and a sulking Ginny stomped off in a huff. Tonks was accompanying them for their protection, and she had taken on the appearance of a middle-aged woman with graying chestnut hair and watery eyes. Bakura, both of him, still found the metamorphmagus ability to be extremely fascinating.

The trip to Diagon Alley was taken by floo, which Ryou had read about but hadn't actually experienced. After the fact, he was of the sentiment that he never wanted to experience it again. Spinning uncontrollably in a fireplace wasn't his idea of comfortable travel, although he couldn't deny that it was speedy. They had used the fireplace of a nearby, unoccupied home. Apparently, the Grimmauld Place fireplace was not connected to the network, because of safety reasons, and the Order had requested the grate in the run-down abandoned building be registered instead.

The green flames spat him out, quite literally, in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron pub. As he stood and brushed the soot off of his sore bottom, Mrs. Weasley and the lady who was Tonks stepped out of the fireplace, much more gracefully than he had, likely due to much more experience in traveling by way of fires. Very few people looked up from their activities as the trio showed up, no doubt used to such occurrences all the time. They walked out the back without a fuss, and Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and tapped the designated brick, which then wriggled and writhed and folded up along with the rest to form the archway entrance into Diagon Alley.

The trio entered the bustling alley, nearly getting smothered by the crowd. Mrs. Weasley held Ryou's hand tightly, which caused Yami no Bakura to grumble about personal space (although there really couldn't be any, what with the size of the mass of people on the street). It was likely that everyone else had also just received their booklists, and was scrambling to get what they needed before term began. Sure enough, the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, was packed full to the brim with expectant buyers. The store owner's face was flushed, and he looked to be struggling to decide whether to feel jubilation or hysteria.

Ryou gladly let the spirit take over so that he could shove to the front and snatch up the books they needed. Quickly, he paid for them from the leftover Galleons he had (incidentally quite a lot) and headed outside to wait for Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. He pressed himself up against the wall to avoid getting crushed by the passing crowd, and drummed his fingers on the warm bricks beside him. Soon enough, the two adults emerged, laden with stacks of books and looking around frantically for their charge. Bakura stepped towards them lightly and tapped a harried Tonks on the shoulder, causing her to start and drop the bags she carried. Shaking her head, Mrs. Weasley grabbed his hand once more and they headed off for the broom shop to look for a decent broom for Ron.

The inside of the shop was almost as crowded as that of the bookstore. It smelled of the heady scent of wood and varnish, and the walls were plastered with posters of various teams. Glass cases held the newest and most expensive brooms on display, and around these clustered avid children and a few adults ogling the special features of the best models, which they probably could not afford. Mrs. Weasley headed for the back, where the more laymen-friendly brooms were arranged. It was evident that the price tags on even the cheapest brooms were causing the Weasley matron to cringe, and Bakura suddenly had an idea.

"Mrs. Weasley, we should get Ron this one." he said brightly, gesturing innocently towards the Comet 420, which had the honor of being in its own glass case, as it was the newest model in its series. Having read "Quidditch Through the Ages", which Hermione surprisingly had a copy of, he knew that the Comet series, though outstripped by the Nimbus series and Firebolt, was a fairly decent racing broom and still popular. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips at the suggestion.

"Oh... well, I'm not sure if I can afford--" she began, but Bakura interjected.

"_We_ can afford it! I've got plenty with me." he told her, smiling lightly and making sure his grin didn't turn into a smirk. That wouldn't be good. Fortunately, Molly was having an internal debate at the moment, and couldn't have cared less.

"N-nonsense, I can't have you spending your own money, not for me!" she muttered at last, a worried look in her eyes as she glanced again at the broom. It _was_ a terribly nice broom...

"Don't be foolish! It's for Ron; consider it a contribution from a friend for his present. I'm sure he'll love it." Bakura replied glibly, already heading for the case. "Excuse me sir, I'd like to purchase this broom..."

Mrs. Weasley stared at him in shock for a moment before rushing towards him and putting forth her share. Even as they walked out of the store carrying the parchment stating that their racing broom would be delivered to Hogwarts as soon as possible, she felt some regret at letting the albino spend his own money on something like that. And it had been so expensive too!

Bakura was laughing darkly on the inside, although he only smirked slightly in reality. By no means had he bought the broom out of _charity_ or _friendship._ No, he'd had a good reason. Actually, he'd had two reasons. The first was that in spending what would seem to Ron a disproportionate amount of money, he would help consolidate their supposed friendship and assist in gaining the trust of his other friends as well. Also, he had needed an excuse to empty his money bag so he could steal more-- perhaps even rob the wizarding bank, and this opportunity had been perfect.

Yami no Bakura was careful not to let his smugness and his plans slip through the link to his hikari. It wouldn't do to have his host trying to stop him from stealing for moral reasons, safety, or something else of trivial nature. As he, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks neared the entrance to Diagon Alley once more, the spirit deftly stepped behind a passing person and let his hand be forcibly wrenched from Molly's. He ducked below her line of sight and darted off through the forest of moving legs, dodging the occasional handbag. He emerged before the gilt double doors of Gringotts, and stepped through the doors at a normal and easy pace. No one spared him a second glance, though his appearance was very outlandish. By lowering his head and hunching his back, he easily made himself inconspicuous and hard to distinguish, even with his snow white hair.

Bakura smirked at the state of the bank's security. Undoubtedly, it was better enforced at night or on less busy days, but unfortunately for it, today was not its day. The goblin at the door, who carried the golden rod that was probably some sort of illegal-item detector, was franticly waving it around to catch everyone who entered. The ordinarily sour desk clerk had an extremely pained expression on his face, evidently supposed to be a welcoming smile, although it looked more like the manic sneer of an axe-wielding murderer. The lines wound all the way around the room, nearly extending outside. Harried goblins ran hither and thither on their short, thin legs, with impatient wizards and witches trailing behind them. They headed for a door at the back of the main room, which Bakura was fairly certain led to the vaults.

_"Yami. What are you doing?" _Ryou muttered in inquiry. _"What are you doing? Answer me!"_ he hissed when he received no response. Yami no Bakura continued to ignore his light.

Carefully, making sure to look as innocuous as he could, the spirit snuck into the dim, torch lit hallway that led underground, keeping to the shadows, which nearly jumped up in anticipation to conceal him. The family who was getting into the rail cart at the moment did not even notice him, and neither did the goblin, who looked half asleep and extremely cranky. Quickly, as the cart traveled out of sight and before the next client and goblin entered, he placed his middle and index fingers between his lips and whistled a high-pitched, reedy note that almost exactly matched that of the goblins'. There was a loud clattering, and a cart trundled up to him obediently, stopping right in front of him. He jumped into the crate on wheels and willed it to move forward with a little prod from his shadow magic, and it zoomed off along the tracks, quickly losing itself in the vast tunnels. Ryou was shouting at him all the while, infuriated at being ignored. Bakura easily tuned the complaints out, for hikaris just weren't intimidating in the least, no matter how they acted. He was more interested in the goal at hand.

Honestly, the spirit had no idea where he was going. But detailed plans were for amateurs, because they never worked anyways. Eventually, after he'd passed a plethora of walls and neared something reminiscent of a vault door, he commanded his cart to stop and jumped out, landing catlike on the stone floor.

_"Spirit, someone's coming."_ Ryou informed him needlessly. The light had resigned himself to trying to help keep them out of trouble. It wasn't much use, however, as Bakura had already heard the loud rumbling of an oncoming cart, and urged his arrival vehicle onward without him. He slunk up to the shadows and let them creep hungrily over him like a shroud. Ordinary shadows, suddenly empowered by the Shadow Wielder nearby, became magical conductors for their realm and gravitated towards him in search of energy to leech, for the Shadow Realm's longing for warmth was insatiable. The spirit, after many years of training and centuries entrapped within his Ring, had gotten used to the life draining power of the shadows, and was hardly affected at all. However, as the goblin and the wizard got out of the newly arrived cart, they felt an unnatural chill descend over them, a feeling almost like that induced by dementors.

As the wizard stepped into the flickering torchlight, Yami no Bakura recognized him for Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's esteemed father. To open the vault, the goblin ran his finger down the crack, whereupon the doors creaked apart to reveal mounds of riches inside. Bakura scowled, realizing that the vault doors had a trap mechanism to stop anyone but a goblin from opening it. In any case, he wasn't really interested in the gold, which was a trivial reward at best. He wanted to snatch something more distinctive, something important that would be realized missing. He sighed as the goblin and Mr. Malfoy exchanged mild insults, as they no doubt were both irritated, the goblin by the wizards present, the wizard by the long line and the goblins.

"How much gold, Mr. Malfoy?" the goblin inquired with a sneer. Lucius scowled darkly and stated his amount, shoving the goblin into the vault. The creature gave an indignant snarl and whirled around, grabbing the wizard's robes and pulling him down to his height. "You will not disrespect a Gringotts goblin, _sir._" he growled. Malfoy ripped the goblin away and threw him down.

"I will do what I like. The ministry should have all of you disgusting creatures dismissed!" he snapped haughtily. The goblin picked himself up and narrowed his eyes.

"You cannot dismiss me like some common house elf! You wizards are the ones who should be done away with, you and your bigoted ministry." he rasped lowly. Lucius's eyes grew even colder, and he looked absolutely incensed.

"Why-- you! I demand to know your name. I will have your head, you filthy brute!" he cried, brandishing his wand. He grabbed the goblin with his other hand, causing the creature to cry out and spasm, as if he'd been shocked.

Bakura nearly gasped as the shadows around him stirred unhappily and recoiled. The sentient magic seemed to hiss and spit at the aura emanating from the Malfoy, and, as Bakura was coated in the shadows, he felt it just as clearly, the dark, brand-like mark upon the man's soul. It appeared that the goblin had felt it too.

"My name is Inglarok." he ground out curtly, turning away and grabbing gold, shoving it into a bag. He turned stiffly and threw it at Lucius' head, muttering something under his breath. The bag of gold flew and began whacking the wizard repeatedly, causing him to curse and swerve wildly to avoid being concussed. Bakura narrowed his eyes and studied Malfoy calculatingly. That aura, he had felt it before, on Snape, and-- he realized it now-- on the Death Eaters who attacked him. If that was so, it mean that Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape were both Death Eaters, and that--

_"Snape is a spy for the Death Eaters." _the spirit murmured to his host, who emitted a surprised squeak.

_"What? How do you know?"_ he inquired.

_"I'll explain it later. He needs to be watched, he'll be teaching at this magic school, and while I'd love to see Dumbledore defeated by someone he trusts, I'd rather not get caught in the crossfire. Also, he might actually be a double agent, spying for both sides with uncertain allegiances. We can't know for sure, yet." _Bakura replied. Ryou gave a mental nod.

In any case, the spirit knew that his main focus right now had better be Malfoy. The man was a Death Eater who was in high standing within the magical community. That meant that the ministry was borderline dictated by Lord Voldemort, if not already completely taken over. Perhaps he had underestimated this Dark Lord. His underlings would require scrutiny, especially on their reason for going after him. Robbing the bank could wait until later.

The gold bag had stopped assaulting Lucius, and the irate wizard had it clutched firmly in his hand, where it writhed feebly. The goblin had leapt into the cart and was already starting it, forcing the man to jump in before it left without him. Needless to say, both were trying not to curse each other to oblivion, as it certainly would not be proper protocol. Bakura muttered a few choice words as he realized that he could not take another cart after them, for it would be heard. He reached for his deck and rested his hand upon the case.

"Come, Diabound." he whispered softly, letting the power from his ring channel through his soul and into the cards to form an image, for it was much easier to use his deck as a channeling device than to directly summon Diabound from his soul. His ka picked him up and flew the way the cart had gone, rushing through the walls and blending in with the darkness. They soon caught up with the cart that contained the volatile pair, who seemed to have come to a temporary truce. Each still wore a deep scowl on his face, but they were not trying to kill each other any longer.

Bakura returned his ka to his soul as they made it back outside. He tailed Lucius Malfoy out of the bank and through the crowd outside, straining to keep sight of the man's pale head of hair. It wasn't too difficult, as said head was very high up, but Yami no Bakura ran into unexpected difficulty.

"Bakura! There you are, we've been looking all over for you!" Mrs. Weasley called out, grabbing his hand. Cursing quietly, the spirit retreated with a flash from the Millennium Ring, leaving an indignant Ryou to deal with the woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got lost in the crowd. I'm glad we found each other again." he murmured contritely, all the while fuming inside. A worried Tonks appeared behind Molly, smiling in relief as she saw Ryou safe and sound.

As they returned to the Leaky Cauldron, and again made to travel back to Grimmauld Place by floo, Ryou couldn't help but wonder about how convoluted wizarding life could be. Ironically, it was Snape, the spy, who had been most truthful with him. _'This is a war, Mr. Bakura. There is no one you can trust.'_

xxxxxx

Footnotes:  
1. Taken directly from the canon text.  
2. Bakura is not just randomly being OOC and having a breakdown because I want him to. There is a reason for this lapse in personality, and it will later be explained. And if you don't get it, I'll hit you over the head with a skillet and scream "foreshadowing!" Understand now? Er... I might have hit you a little too hard...  
3. I've had a load of Aristotle's _Rhetoric_ in school, and now I see relations to rhetoric everywhere. Even Bakura's argument sounds Aristotelian. D:  
4. Oh my God right? I skipped a WHOLE MONTH AND A HALF. Yes, it's true. Since the book skips that time period, I can't think of anything interesting that could happen, and readers are clamoring for sorting and shopping, I did it. I don't foresee complaining, it's still pretty cohesive, right?


	7. Associating with the Wrong Sorting

Author Notes: Scream, yell, throw rotten tomatoes, PM spam... I didn't have any inspiration, and wasn't sure how to go about writing this chapter. But I think Bakura may finally be getting to Hogwarts. About time, right? Thank you all my readers, and thank you very much to all my reviewers! While having people read the story is nice, it's the reviews that make me feel appreciated. If you take the time to favorite or story alert this, drop a line (it wouldn't exactly take any longer)! The ratio of +favorites/alerts per chapter to actual reviews is huge (2:1) and it's kind of depressing, considering you can review for each chapter, while you can only favorite the story once. Here's a tip. If you want me to update faster, guilt trip me, because I'm an incorrigible procrastinator.

I am by no means soliciting for reviewers; I have very many great people giving me feedback already. It's just that, seeing that so many people like the story but don't actually take the time to say anything sort of makes me want to go play games or write something else instead of this when I have free time. If you're tired of these once-a-month and crappy to boot updates, PM spam me or something, I won't mind. That way, I will actually move my arse and write in the hour-ish of solid free time I have almost every day, potentially bringing update speed up to once a week. If you don't care... well, neither do I, I have other things to do too! :D

Also, my school is awesome. Today was crazy hat/hair day, so someone came to school wearing the Sorting Hat. XD! He proceeded to stick it on people's heads and sort them. I got Slytherin. o-O I'm glad to know how my peers feel about me.

Review Replies!

To GirlLoki and Jerex: Bakura is indeed getting his wand now! I'm not sure exactly why I made Dumbledore make a big deal about his wand (you'll see in chapter). I suppose I'll tie up the loose ends later.

Disclaimer: Please do not eat Harry Potter. I do not own Harry Potter, so it would be bad if you ate him, because I happen to be borrowing him for now, and then I would have to pay J.K. Rowling for him, which would be really lame. Also, please refrain from kidnapping Bakura, because then I would have to pay for damages (to you and your family) since he would likely knife you and run away, and after that I'd have to explain to Kazuki Takahashi why his fictional character suddenly became real, and I would have to pay for that too. Right now, I only have about 40 bucks, and cannot pay for all of this stuff.

"Speech"

_"Telepathy"_

_'Thoughts'_

**(Footnote Number)**

xxxxxx

As they stepped out from the fireplace, sooty and uncomfortable, Ryou realized that they'd forgotten something important.

"Wand!" he exclaimed out of the blue, as soon as the thought had crossed his mind. They had forgotten to get his wand. Well, that couldn't be good, as a wand was supposed to be important for a wizard. It really was strange that they hadn't stopped by the wand shop though. While the spirit had been busy mucking about in the underground bank vaults, it appeared that Mrs. Weasley and Tonks had decided to do the rest of their shopping and look for him along the way so as to be more efficient. Of course, Ryou would've needed to be present to get his wand, and perhaps the women had been too relieved when they'd found him and ushered him away as soon as they could. In any case, there was still the problem itself.

"Oh, yes, dear. Wand-- oh, of course!" Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly as she accidentally dropped the packages she carried onto the floor in a rather haphazard pile, which she fervently tried to sort into orderly stacks to pick up again. "Actually dear, Albus requested that we wait to get you your wand, because he wanted to be present for the moment." she explained, straightening up and stretching, before hefting the veritable tower of shopping back into her arms.

_"Sentimental old man."_ the spirit sneered. Ryou sighed. Whenever Dumbledore was mentioned, the spirit always had to make some sort of scathing comment. He just wondered what it would be like with the man nearby all year. It wouldn't be fun to live with a bad tempered spirit, not when said spirit could snatch his body at any time and wreak havoc in a rage. Ryou just hoped that the stupid old man (now he was insulting him too...) wouldn't cause any more trouble.

As they entered Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George congregated in the entrance hall to relieve the Weasley matron of her huge load, each grabbing their own books. Ryou, who'd been carrying his own supplies, made his way precariously up the stairs to the second floor landing and dumped the packages onto his bed. He kicked open his suitcase (someone had brought it over from his house), which was already half full of clothes, and placed the majority of his purchases into it without unwrapping them, leaving only the rectangular package with a hasty "5th yr books" scrawled upon it in black ink on his bed. He relegated his now-packed trunk to the corner of his room, and tore open the wrappings on his new books. After all, he figured that it couldn't be a bad thing to read ahead.

As they plowed through the new material, both Ryou and the Spirit of the Ring realized-- with a sinking heart and a flare of rage, respectively-- that the defense book appeared to be all theory. Sure, they hadn't actually practiced any spell before, lacking the wand and the permission, but the other books themselves had included instructions on how to perform the spell and what sort of force it required. The book he had right now gave only the explanations of how spells worked-- it lacked a few important qualities, such as the _wand movement_.

_"I swear, I'm going to kill that smiling prune!"_ the spirit roared. _"No... better yet, I'll give him his own, private doll."_ he hissed after further thought. He did not relish the concept of wasting an entire year, a precious year, on _theory._ Especially when Dumbledore had claimed he'd get at least some defensive or even offensive education. Ryou shifted uncomfortably, as some of Yami no Bakura's anger was leaking over into his own conscious and making him unreasonably irate.

True to his words, the spirit had taken over and was already getting to work on creating the Headmaster's figurine. There did not appear to be any lead around, or a furnace. And for that matter, he did not have his cast or any wax, or any precautionary safety devices. Therefore, he settled on the old fashioned method of whittling. He was sure he'd seen a block of wood up on the third floor in one of the empty rooms, and his pocket knife would do...

Ryou sat on the bed in his soul room and watched through the eyes in mild interest. This was probably the spirit's way of venting his anger. He seriously doubted that Yami no Bakura would actually seal the Headmaster away. That would definitely attract attention of the negative type, which they did not want if they were to survive in the wizarding world. Then again, the spirit really was rather unpredictable. In any case, Ryou hadn't known that the dark spirit was so proficient at whittling. Barely half an hour had passed before a wooden likeness of a human had been carved out of the nondescript block, and another half hour's work had produced fine facial details and even fingers and toes.

Satisfied with the frame of the doll, Yami no Bakura flicked the blade on his knife closed and slipped it into his pocket. He exited his room quietly, in preparation of scavenging the house for more materials.

As it turned out, there wasn't any usable fabric in the house. At least, not the type that Bakura was searching for. But the spirit had discovered something else. In the last room on the third floor, there lived a strange hybrid creature that looked like something out of a Duel Monsters card. It had sharp, beady eyes, a cruel beak, deadly looking talons for its front feet, and a horse's hindquarters and hind legs. Huge eagle wings were folded at its sides, and it munched casually on a bloody animal carcass. The stench was overwhelming-- or would have been, if Yami no Bakura had been sensitive to such things. But, having casually killed an uncountable number of people, any distaste he might have had had long dissipated; in fact, he rather enjoyed the scent of death and the sight of blood.

As he entered the room, the creature leveled a steely gaze upon him, one that would've certainly cowed a lesser being. But Bakura remained apathetic, arms crossed as he stood in the door frame. The beast uttered a threatening screech as the spirit stepped closer, standing up and stretching out its wings.

_"I think it's a hippogriff, spirit."_ Ryou muttered quietly. In all honesty, he was frightened. The creature was huge, its wingspan extending many meters. Its razor sharp talons would undoubtly be able to decapitate a human with a single slash. The spirit scowled as his light side's terror seeped into his subconscious.

_"Stop quivering like a coward! I'm sure one of those books we read had something about these... hippogriff creatures." _Bakura snapped. _"Now think."_

_"Th-they are very p-proud."_ Ryou finally managed, after frantically sifting through what he remembered. Conveniently, the books he was envisioning made their way into the shelf in his soul room, although the words were blurry and some pages ripped out, undoubtedly due to faulty remembrance, although his subconscious certainly did picked up more than his conscious memory did.

_"Yes? What else?"_ the spirit demanded impatiently. The hippogriff before them-- for now there was no doubt that it was such-- was getting more vexed by the second at the interruption of its meal, and looked ready to attack.

_"You have to bow to it."_ Ryou squeaked. Yami no Bakura scowled, but did as his hikari said. Now that it had been brought up, he did remember reading about hippogriffs in some book about magical beasts. With an air of indifference, the spirit strolled into the room and bowed low, making sure to suppress any hint of mockery. After all, the last time he bowed, it was in derision of the Pharaoh...

The hippogriff eyed him warily for a painfully long time, before it finally acted. It folded up its wings and bent its front legs in what was evidently a returning bow. Bakura straightened up gracefully and scrutinized the creature before him. Satisfied, he retreated, the Ring's bright flash through his shirt visible in dark of the room. Ryou bit his lip fearfully as he was suddenly faced with the menacing beak and perpetually annoyed-looking eyes of the hippogriff, which was a little too close for comfort.

"Apologies for hindering your meal." he finally said in an effort to break the silence. Ryou felt a little bit inane, speaking to the hippogriff. He didn't doubt the creature understood him, he just found it really awkward to talk to something that could not respond verbally. Still, the hippogriff shifted its head in what appeared to be a nod. "Er, well, I suppose I'll just be going." he muttered, bowing once more before turning to leave. He'd really rather err on the side of over-politeness.

As he exited the room, he ran right into a very surprised Sirius Black. Ryou opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. It was more likely than not that he wasn't supposed to be there.

"Bakura! Are you alright?" Sirius inquired hurriedly, having gotten over his shock at seeing the albino emerge from Buckbeak's room. The boy appeared fine, if a bit uncomfortable.

"Er yes, of course I am. Is there a reason why I shouldn't be?" Ryou asked, knowing full well that the hippogriff probably could've eaten him for lunch. Sirius stared at him incredulously. "What's his name?" Ryou asked in an effort to change the subject.

"What? Oh, Buckbeak." Sirius replied. "I just keep him up here in my mother's room since I can't really take him out. We're both wanted criminals." he continued, smiling half-heartedly. Ryou nodded, shrugging.

"Alright then. I think I'll go grab some food." he informed Sirius. In actuality, Ryou wasn't hungry in the least, although it was already evening, and he hadn't had lunch. For one, the run-in with Buckbeak had taken away his appetite. Also, the spirit was in a bad mood again, as he had remembered what he'd been doing before they met the hippogriff. The lack of proper materials meant that the finishing of Dumbledore's doll would have to wait. How unfortunate.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Yami no Bakura suddenly seized control. Fortunately, in the well lit hall, the Ring's reaction went unseen.

_"Spirit?"_ Ryou asked tentatively. The spirit was nearly growling, and his eyes were sharp and narrowed.

_"That insolent, cowardly thief!" _he snarled inside his head, his face contorting outwardly. The short, ratty man dressed in rags and lazily smoking a pipe was easily recognizable as the thief they had bumped into in Diagon Alley on their first day exploring in England. As he caught sight of the distinctive albino, Mundungus Fletcher jumped and backed away, unconsciously rubbing his side, though it had long since healed.

"You! What're you doing here?" They both cried at the same time, Bakura in fury and Mundungus in fear. The spirit sneered and crossed his arms.

"I happen to be living here for now." Bakura informed the other man. As he took a step forward, he was pleased to see that Mundungus took one backward.

"I-I'm part of the Order." Mundungus muttered, trying to put up a brave facade. It wasn't working.

"I see." Bakura replied, scowling. "And they let a petty thief like you join?"

"I-- They let a bloody murderer live in their house, so why not?" the man retorted. Bakura froze for a second, wondering how the man knew, before realizing that he was merely inferring from the willingness that Bakura had displayed in stabbing him.

"Where's the murderer?" a gruff voice inquired, preceding its owner. Alastor Moody clunked out of the kitchen, electric blue eye whirring about, undoubtedly in search of said murderer. Bakura raised his hand lazily, scowling slightly when "Mad-Eye" missed the sarcasm and pulled out his wand. However, Bakura was spared the task of convincing the auror that he _wasn't_ a murderer, as the sound of desperate sobbing reached their ears. It was coming from the drawing room. Moody's swiveling eye swerved to stare through the wall, though he kept his real eye trained on Bakura. But the spirit had already started for the drawing room door. If it was an enemy, he would laugh at their pain. And if it was an ally, he would tell them to buck up and grow a spine.

The sight that greeted him was extremely strange. Harry Potter was staring dumbfounded at Molly Weasley, who was currently crying her eyes out over the dead body of what appeared to be one of her family members. Bakura was confused, but he suddenly understood as Mrs. Weasley muttered "_Riddikulus!_" between sobs. It was something out of the third year defense book. He couldn't remember what it was called, but presumably it showed your worst fear. And this woman was obviously failing at vanquishing it.

Bakura, forgetting that he hadn't a wand, stepped between her and the dead bodies of Fred and George Weasley. The boggart seemed to waver a bit, before _Crack,_ and it shifted form into wrinkled old man with a grizzled white beard, wearing long off-white robes, and carrying a bloodied bundle. At first, Harry thought it might have been Dumbledore, but then saw that the man was much shorter and much less calm than the headmaster. The spirit looked at the boggart-man in confusion, until he turned. Then he gasped in surprise and narrowed his eyes in fury.

"Akhenaden..."**(1)** he hissed unconsciously. The man began laughing viciously, and behind him appeared a cauldron, containing a simmering golden liquid. He raised up the bundle in his hands, which Harry saw with horror was a woman, with tan skin and bright white hair, still slightly conscious. With a sinking heart, Bakura saw his mother thrown mercilessly into the sacrificial cauldron. She uttered one last cry.

"My son!" she screamed. And the spirit knew that he had been hiding behind a pillar at that time, and in her dying moment, his mother had seen him and called out... Bakura shook his head. It didn't have the same effect as the real thing. His mother was already dead, had been dead for over three thousand years. Reliving her death wasn't going to make it any worse. He watched idly as the cauldron vanished, and Akhenaden advanced slowly. Now, irrational fear welled up within him. A memory strained to resurface, but it was as if some sort of clamp was pushing it down, trying to repress it. But before he could think more on it, Remus Lupin ran before him, pointing his wand at the image of the priest.

"_Riddikulus!_" he said, and the man vanished entirely, to be replaced with a silvery orb hanging in the air. Lupin waved his wand and it vanished into smoke. Remus turned and went to comfort Molly Weasley, who was still sobbing quietly, not only at the sight of her children's dead bodies, but now at the horror of the white-haired woman's death.

"Bakura, that was your mum, wasn't it?" Harry asked tentatively. The spirit glared at him. Although he didn't feel anger or sadness at her death per say, for everybody died sooner or later, he was nearly drowning in rage at the one who was responsible for the ignoble deed. It had been Bakura's duty, as the eldest son, to bury his parents the proper way after they died-- just because he lived in a village of thieves didn't mean that he had no honor. But all of that was crushed when they died a cursed death, and left no bodies behind to bury. Only evil gold... Bakura fingered his Millennium Ring, a piece of the accursed metal his village had died for. And even now, he knew that the spirits of his village were restless-- had been that way for three thousand years, all for the aims of some bigoted Pharaoh who's head was stuffed full of the noble crap that he always preached, never realizing his own hypocrisy. Bakura sighed. Though he had committed many murders, he _always_ left a body behind for someone to find and give the proper rights to. It was disgusting to deprive the dead of their rightful rest, whether they entered the Blessed Fields or had their hearts devoured by Ammut.

"Yes." he replied curtly to Harry, who seemed to already regret what he'd just said. However, Harry Potter was now brooding over something else. He recalled distinctly that Bakura had told him that his mother and sister had died in a car crash. Either it was his way of coping... or he was lying. Harry liked to believe the best of people, and he did see how uncomfortable the albino was at the mention of his mum. Besides, why would he lie about something like that? There was nothing to gain by it. He remembered that the Dursleys always said that _his_ parents died in a car crash. Maybe that was just the muggle way of dealing with wizardly deaths.

As Harry thought about the things he'd heard that night, his worries about a joke shop and prefects seemed a world away. And, when his scar seared in pain, he felt even worse. What was happening out there in the world now?

Even as Harry Potter lay in bed, mind whirring, Ryou Bakura was standing in the entrance hall, fully dressed, with Albus Dumbledore at his side. His yami had decided that he didn't want to face the old man while his negative emotions were in disarray, as he wouldn't want to accidentally kill someone and draw attention. So Ryou walked out the door with Dumbledore, who was taking him back to Diagon Alley to get his wand.

Neither hikari nor yami was sure of the significance of this. Why did the headmaster insist on seeing him buy his wand? Though Yami no Bakura was certain it was just something trivial, Ryou wasn't so sure. Under the "kindly grandfather" visage was a cunning and manipulative mind, as they both knew, and everything Dumbledore did seemed to be planned out to the minutest detail. They had to watch out for him, just like with Shaadi...

This time, instead of flooing, they apparated, which wasn't much more comfortable, really. After a quick exchange of greetings with the barkeep, Tom, they headed out the back door and into the Alley. Wasting no time, Dumbledore made a beeline for Ollivander's wand shop, with Ryou following closely at his heels.

If the musty shop was eerie in the day time, it was ten times worse in the dark of night. Ryou couldn't help but shiver at the oppressive air of the place. He jumped a mile when Ollivander appeared before him, clear grayish eyes gleaming with anticipation, as if he was some hungry wolf.

"Ryou Bakura. I've been expecting you." the creepy man said in a surprisingly normal, if dilated, voice. "Hold out your wand arm please." Uncertainly, Ryou held out his left arm. The shopkeeper flicked his wand, and a tape measure began examining Ryou of its own accord. Ollivander himself was moving to take down some of the thin, slender boxes on the shelves, which undoubtedly contained wands. He came over, waved the tape measure away, and handed the albino a wand. "Yew and dragon heartstring, eleven inches. Bendy." he declared, and Ryou took it and waved it around. It was quickly snatched back.

"No no, that won't do. Try this one. Beech and unicorn tail hair. Eight inches. Springy." But that one was taken away too. Ollivander snatched up another box and took out the wand it contained. "Maple, dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches. Rigid." he said, handing it to Ryou. Nothing happened, and it was taken back too.

Ryou felt that he went through quite a few wands. Oak and unicorn tail hair, ten inches and supple. Plane and phoenix feather, seven and a half inches, sturdy. Pine, unicorn tail hair, ten and a half inches and whippy. Ebony and dragon heartstring, eight inches and good for charm work. Rowan and phoenix feather, nine and a half inches, bendy. Cherry and dragon heartstring, ten inches and unyielding. Cedar, unicorn tail hair, twelve inches, good for transfiguration. Elm and phoenix feather, seven inches, rigid. Birch, dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches, springy. And the list went on and on. He was beginning to think that perhaps he just wasn't magical enough.

Ollivander's eyes were shining with excitement as he handed Ryou yet another wand. "Try this one. Elder and unicorn tail hair. Nine and a half inches. Strong." The albino took the wand and waved it, not expecting anything to happen. Therefore, he was extremely surprised when warmth coursed through his body and it shot out white sparks. The shopkeeper gave him a look somewhere between happy and despairing. Behind him, Dumbledore clapped lightly, nodding. Ryou was still confused, even as he handed Ollivander the money and headed out the door. He couldn't help but feel that there was something he was not being told.**(2)**

The journey back was as quick as the one there, and about as comfortable. As soon as he entered his room, Ryou toppled onto his bed, exhausted.

xxxxxx

Bakura checked in every nook and cranny to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything of value. He took care dressing, strapping the knives Ryou liked under his clothing, one on his belt, one on his right arm, and last on his leg. He clasped the belt that held his deck, after having made certain that every card was there. Then he shoved the wand up his left sleeve and pulled on his trench coat. He concealed one of his more dangerous knives in the lining of his coat. After all, there was no such thing as having too many weapons. Finally, he stuffed his dangling Millennium Ring down the front of his shirt, smoothing it out, and placed the Millennium Eye in his front pocket, the one with the zipper. Carefully, he picked up Set and wound the snake around his neck, hiding him in the high collar of his coat. The only pets allowed at Hogwarts were owls, cats, and toads. But Bakura was definitely not leaving his precious snake behind. There was just no way.

Ryou was still asleep. That alone told the yami that he wasn't excited at all to go to Hogwarts. Usually, he was up bright and early on the first day of school, no matter what. It wasn't exactly that Ryou liked studying. It was just that he strived to keep up his grades to help bolster his reputation, which was decidedly marred by Bakura's antics. As the spirit opened the door, he heard a loud thunk, a scream, and then the grating voice of the portrait of Sirius' mother.

Apparently, Fred and George had knocked Ginny Weasley down the stairs. Bakura would've laughed, but he deemed that as something suspicious to do, and so controlled himself. Because Harry Potter was with them, they were going to King's Cross on foot, with a guard. Joy.

The walk took about twenty minutes, and they made it with about five minutes to spare. From the inane chatter about Hogwarts that the other teens launched into whenever he was near, he'd learned that one simply walked through the barrier between platforms nine and ten to reach nine and three quarters. Why exactly they called the platform nine and three quarters was beyond the spirit. In his opinion, nine and a half would have been much more logical.

The platform was colorful and cheerful, although it had a decidedly rustic air. Bakura, ignoring the others, effortlessly swung his trunk off of their cart and headed for the train. Once inside, he found with distaste that every compartment had occupants. Just as he was wondering whose company would be less grating, he was tapped on the shoulder. Resisting the instinct to stab or curse whoever had surprised him, he whirled around and came face to face with Draco, who was surrounded by his cronies. Forcing his face into a slight smile, Bakura inclined his head.

"Malfoy, yes?" he murmured lightly.

"So you decided to show up, Bakura. Would you like to sit with my friends?" Malfoy inquired. His voice carried an arrogant undertone even more pronounced than it had been the last time they had met. Bakura caught sight of the badge with the curled P proudly displayed on the blond's chest. So the Malfoy had become prefect.

"I'd be delighted." the spirit replied coyly. He followed Draco to a compartment about halfway down the train, which contained a few students wearing the ties and badges of Slytherin house. They looked up as he entered, clearly curious as to why he wore no house colors.

"Pansy, Blaise. Meet Bakura, Ryou Bakura. He's from Japan, and he'll be starting Hogwarts in fifth year." Malfoy said, before turning to leave, evidently for the prefect carriage. Bakura scowled at the blond for doing his introduction for him, but let it pass. Seeing as everyone else was already in their robes, he decided he'd might as well change. Carefully extracting his knife, he placed it between his teeth as he removed his trench coat. He stowed it in his bag and pulled out his black robes, ignoring the dumbfounded looks on the others' faces at his long, sharp, and partly serrated blade. Slipping his robes on, he shifted until he was comfortable. There was a hiss, and Bakura was surprised for a second, before he realized that it was Set.

"Did you just hiss?" asked the girl who he assumed was named Pansy. Bakura turned and shook his head, scowling (or attempting to, as trying to change his facial expression while holding a knife between his teeth was difficult) and gesturing towards the black, scaly mass around his neck. As they realized what it was, the Slytherins' eyes widened. Bakura plopped down in the middle seat and removed his knife so he could talk.

"This is Set." he informed the other teens, letting the snake slither onto his lap. Wiping off his blade, he placed it somewhere in his robes-- no one actually saw where.

"You _can_ do magic, yes?" the other boy, Blaise asked suspiciously, eying where he thought the knife had disappeared off to. Bakura sneered.

"Of course." he replied. These people didn't need to know that he was rather unsure whether or not he could do any of the spells detailed in the books. Besides, they'd asked if he could do _magic_. They hadn't specified what kind. He was very proficient at shadow and soul magic, very much indeed. His branch of magic was much more practical, anyways. Who needed all that spell crap when they could simply summon their ka for battle? Then again, not everybody's ka was as powerful as his Diabound. In fact, he very much doubted that _anyone's_ ka was stronger than Diabound. He smirked inwardly at this thought, but retained his indifferent expression on the outside.

The train ride with the Slytherins wasn't very interesting. Blaise's face was fixed in a perpetual frown, and he looked as if he'd much rather be somewhere else. This sentiment was probably encouraged by the fact that Pansy was attempting to make small talk, and failing. After all, she was talking to _boys_. Well, boys and a three thousand year old spirit-- who was male. Yami no Bakura was bored. Although it was already noon, Ryou had still not woken up (or if he did, he hadn't said anything), and he wanted to know why. Perhaps the wand waving from last night had taken a toll on the boy. The spirit wasn't sure, as the whole event seemed rather simple overall. In any case, boredom and the dark spirit were not compatible. Bakura felt the itch to violate basic social mores coming on, and he fought to suppress it. He himself did not understand why he felt anger and hatred whenever he was idle. It was, after all, completely irrational, and he knew it. But yet, the urges always came, and he usually had to stamp them down.

A little after one, a witch pushing a trolley stacked full of sweets came by. As Pansy had shut up, and Blaise was looking slightly happier at the sight of sweets, Bakura decided that he would take a look at the trolley as well. There were strange sweets of every kind, most of which he had never heard of. Figuring that Ryou liked, chocolate, he purchased some chocolate frogs, and, as his negative emotions peaked and he wanted to _kill_, he decided wisely to grab a few of the "blood pops" to occupy his time. He didn't actually like the weird coppery taste of blood-- it disagreed with him-- but he was definitely not one for sweet things, and he figured that if he couldn't actually bloody his hands, he might as well pretend that he was. Maybe the feelings would go away after that. When he asked for the reddish candies, the witch looked at him oddly before handing them to him in exchange for a few knuts. Bakura plopped down on his seat and tore off the wrapper of one of his lollipops, shoving it in his mouth. He received another odd look, this time from Blaise, and a repulsed scowl from Pansy. He decided that the candy was not really helping to calm him down. Taking a deep breath, he resolved to stare at the wall straight across from him-- incidentally right above Pansy's head.

The blood pops didn't actually taste like blood. They were tangy and slightly salty, but there wasn't as much of that metallic flavor that real blood had. And Bakura was just fine with that. They actually tasted pretty good. Smiling a little, the spirit's thoughts drifted, and he sucked absently on his candy. On second thought, perhaps the lollipops were indeed helping him repress his bloodthirsty urges-- no pun intended. Still, he'd rather be doing something interesting. And so he sat the body up in a sustainable position and retreated to his soul room.

When Draco Malfoy returned from his prefect duties, pushed past Crabbe and Goyle, and threw open the compartment door, he was greeted with a sight that was decidedly weird as hell. Blaise Zabini was asleep, leaning on the compartment wall and drooling slightly, and it made Malfoy think, _'What bad posture!' _Pansy Parkinson was staring at Bakura, lip curled in disgust. And Bakura... Bakura had a dreamy look on his face, and a lollipop stick was hanging out of his mouth. Glancing at the seat next to the albino which held a small pile of candy, his suspicious were confirmed. _'Ew.'_ was all he could think for a second. Once he came back to his wits, he strode over to Bakura and prodded him, causing the white-haired boy to sway dangerously. However, the spirit quickly regained his bearings, rushing to occupy the previously empty shell. He blinked, rusty brown eyes narrowing.

"What?" he muttered, but it came out as a growl. He grabbed the stick on his blood pop and took it out of his mouth so he could speak properly. Draco felt strangely intimidated, but soon regained his footing.

"Are you a vampire or something?" he asked bluntly. Bakura blinked at him in confusion, opening his mouth to answer before stopping again to consider. The whole notion was ridiculous, but he supposed it was possible. Maybe that was what was causing him to be so irrational **(3)**.

"I don't think so..." he finally said after some consideration. Draco Malfoy stared at him for a bit before shaking his head.

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't _think_ so?" he cried. Frankly, it made no sense to him. Bakura blinked again, tilting his head to the side.

"It means just that. I'm most probably not. But I can't deny that these blood pops are pretty tasty." the spirit replied. "You want one?" he asked a second later, just for kicks. He chuckled at Draco's wide eyes and shocked moue. "I'll take that as a no." he said, putting his own almost-blood-flavored lollipop back in his mouth. Draco shook his head and sat down next to Pansy. He grabbed one of the every flavored beans from the box she held and popped it in his mouth before choking on it. Bakura glanced inquisitively at him. "What did you get?" he asked.

"Blood." Malfoy replied dryly. _'Oh, the irony of it all.' _he thought, as Bakura broke into a series of erratic cachinnations. Draco, deciding that he'd had enough of the compartment, which now smelled faintly of blood and confectionery sugar (incidentally not a great combination), stood and walked out the door, beckoning Crabbe and Goyle to follow. He had Potter and his pals to pick on.

The train ride passed quickly, despite the lack of anything interesting to do. Once Malfoy left, Bakura again retreated into his soul room. At first sight, it seemed a plain, square room, but the spirit knew better. It was a tomb-- his tomb, he sometimes could not help thinking-- and it was riddled with traps. He had heard tell of the Pharaoh's soul room, rife with staircases that defied gravity. But the great star-haired one wasn't the only one with hidden memories. Bakura knew where each of the traps located in his soul room were, and they were almost all pretty commonplace-- poisoned darts, flying knives, swinging blades, crushing pillars-- all but one. The spirit headed towards that one now, making sure to bypass the other traps. Stepping on the switch that activated it, he saw the walls flicker away as red sand poured into the room-that-was-no-longer. He was in the middle of the desert, and, judging by the position of the sun, it was just after noon.

It was an illusion, for the walls were still there, and tangible. But it was mysterious, and the spirit could make no sense of it. Not only that, but the time of day did indeed change, and it was apparently synchronized with real life. And it was in his own soul room... Sighing, Bakura stamped his foot, and the trap reversed. Sand vanished, and the walls reappeared.

As he had nothing to do, he purposely ran across the room, triggering a multitude of deadly traps. Stones fell from overhead, even as flying blades assaulted him from all sides. It was his way of keeping his reflexes sharp, his training. Since it was his soul room, he couldn't die, as nothing was real. But he knew from experience that it sure hurt to be hit.

But while dodging deadly traps was fun, it too got boring after awhile. By this time, Bakura became aware that Ryou had woken up, and, as the body had been unoccupied, the host's conscious had automatically taken hold.

_"Why am I sitting with Slytherins?"_ Ryou asked the spirit. He hadn't expected to wake on the train, nor had he expected to be sharing a compartment with the people Harry Potter hated.

_"Because they invited us to sit."_ Yami no Bakura replied, sitting down and leaning on a patch of wall that wasn't rigged. And, as if he had read Ryou's thoughts he said, _"Potter won't know a thing."_

Ryou sighed, surveying his surroundings. The compartment was a commonplace one, but its occupants were anything but ordinary. Blaise Zabini had woken up, and was staring moodily at the ceiling. Pansy was leaning on Draco, who had returned to the compartment some time ago, after having gotten bored of bullying first years. Crabbe and Goyle were now sitting inside, looking unsure of themselves. Just then, Theodore Nott, a lanky brunette, entered, a thoughtful look on his face. He sat down next to Ryou, not even bothering to glance his way.

Ryou felt uncomfortable grouped together with a roomful of people he didn't know. He stood, and, seeing as everyone else was occupied, did not bother to say anything as he left the stuffy compartment for the narrow hallway in the middle of the train. Extracting his wand from his sleeve once he realized it was there, he held it carefully, scrutinizing it. It was a dark brown, with a light smattering of carvings up its length. He could not discern whether they had function, or were simply ornamental, but he liked the feel of the ridged wood in his hand.

_"If you're going to fiddle with that, you'd might as well try some magic."_ the spirit said. That sounded like pretty good advice, so Ryou gripped his wand steadily and cast the first spell that came to mind.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." he muttered under his breath, flicking his wand at a pebble on the carpet. Nothing happened. He sighed, trying it again. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." Still, nothing changed.

_"Let me."_ the spirit demanded, and Ryou felt him take control. "_Wingardium Leviosa._" the spirit murmured. His voice was oddly intonated, but this time, it worked, at least sort of. The rock jumped significantly before dropping to the floor once more.

_"Spirit, how do you do it?"_ Ryou inquired, rather miffed. He hadn't expected to succeed on the first try. Ron said that it had taken him ages. But he certainly hadn't thought the spirit capable of it either.

_"I don't know, Yadonushi. I just... do. I suppose it's because I am well practiced in other magics as well." _Yami no Bakura responded. He retreated to let Ryou practice more before the train arrived at its destination.

By the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Ryou had managed to make the pebble flop weakly. Sighing, he stowed his wand back up his sleeve and hurried for the compartment that he'd previously vacated. The other Slytherins had left already, and he managed to make it off the train without bumping into anyone he knew. Relieved, he ran towards the call of "first years, over here, first years!" A harried looking woman carrying a large lantern was waving it as hard as she could, and ushering frightened looking children into boats. Shivering, Ryou jumped into the nearest rowboat and sat down. He was soon joined by three other children, who looked at him inquisitively, clearly wondering why someone as old as him was traveling with them.

Once the woman with the lantern got into the last boat, the entire fleet began moving towards what was presumably the castle. As they passed an outcropping of rock, amazed gasps could be heard coming form the front and those in the back craned their necks to see what was so interesting. Ryou could not help but gasp as he saw the enormous castle, glittering with light that streamed from hundreds of windows. Even the spirit was impressed. The Pharaoh's abode, he remembered, had not been nearly as large, although it did have some fancy gold adornment that this castle lacked.

The school got closer and closer, and soon they were up right next to it. But the boats kept moving, passing under a curtain of ivy and heading below the foundations into an underground lagoon. The children got out then, some of them still stunned from their first sight of the castle. The woman who had brought them went up to a set of double doors and knocked three times, loudly.

The doors opened, and the first years and Ryou stepped into a grand scene. The entrance hall was huge, and Ryou suspected that Otoogi's fancy game shop could easily fit inside it. A staircase began directly before them, and it seemed to stretch on forever. However, they were led to the right by a stern looking witch in green robes, who Ryou was fairly certain was Professor McGonagall. She led them into a small room off to the side of another set of huge double doors, which presumably led to the dining hall, as there was currently a loud multitude of voices coming from it.

Briefly, Professor McGonagall explained the four houses, and behavioral expectations. She glanced Ryou's way more often than he was comfortable with, before turning towards the door and leaving, informing the m that she would be coming back for them soon. A little after she left, something interesting happened. A mass of pearly, transparent people drifted through the wall, and some of the first years screamed. Ryou supposed that they must be ghosts.

_"How strange... I've never known such ghosts. Not ones that seem so content."_ the Spirit of the Ring muttered. The only ghosts he'd known were the cursed dead of Kul Elna, his village, and Shaadi, and they were certainly not like this. For one, those of Kul Elna did not have discernible form, and they did not talk to people. Rather, they killed whoever was unfortunate enough to stumble upon them. And as for Shaadi, he was practically alive, as he was tangible, ordinary colored, and definitely did not act like a dead person.

Before Ryou could respond to the spirit's comments, Professor McGonagall returned and led them out into the great hall. The albino already knew what was waiting, and sure enough, he spied a ragged hat upon a stool at the front of the hall. Its brim opened wide, and it began to sing loudly about the four houses. While Ryou puzzled over its hymn, the spirit was busy glaring up at the staff table-- or at least, trying to glare from the body's peripheral scope of vision, which he could not change.

_"Yadonushi, look up there. That's the disgusting lady from Potter's trial. What in the name of Ra is she doing here?" _he demanded, growling. Ryou looked, and confirmed what the spirit had seen. He couldn't deny that she repulsed even him. It looked like she had attempted to dress cutely, but botched the attempt due to her hideous face, worse than most of Ryou's deck's monsters. In any case, the simpering expression she wore did not help her look any better. Both Ryou and the spirit suddenly perked to attention as they caught the last lines of the Sorting Hat's song.

"_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
The warning history shows,  
For our Hogwarts is in danger  
From external, deadly foes  
And we must unite inside her  
Or we'll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
Let the Sorting now begin._"  
_  
"That sounds depressing..."_ Ryou began. He seriously doubted that the hat's song was that way every year. It just didn't seem likely. He hoped that nothing went terribly wrong this year, for he felt that trouble always followed him, no matter where he went, and he wanted to break the curse.

_"Indeed, host. All the more reason to be on our guards."_

Ryou noticed that everyone was staring at him, and muttering loudly to boot. He scowled slightly at the unwanted attention, but decided that he could bear it. In any case, the hall fell into a hush when Professor McGonagall glared at the talking students. She began reading from the list in her hands.

"Abercrombie, Euan." she called out. A tiny, shaking boy stumbled towards the stool with the hat, and sat down, dropping the huge cap on his head. After a moment, the hat called out, 

_"GRYFFINDOR!"_

The sorting continued, and Ryou waited with mounting anticipation mingled with slight fear as his name approached. Bailey, Jared was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Baltar, Damien became a Hufflepuff.

"Bakura, Ryou." the professor called. Ryou was nervous despite himself, and the wave of whispers that followed him up to the stool wasn't helping. He sat down shakily and put on the hat.

_"Ah, interesting, interesting. You are a hard worker, I see. But you always have your goals in sight... The ends justify the means. You're also very intelligent, and you learn quickly, but I see you don't go out of your way to seek knowledge."_ the hat said in his mind. It didn't seem to notice that there was two of him, or if it did, it was not saying anything.

_"I suppose." _Ryou responded.

_"Yes, I'd say you're more cunning than thirsty for information. And not very brave I see... You'd better be in..." _the hat paused for a moment, "SLYTHERIN!"

xxxxxx

Footnotes:

1. Yeah, I got tired of "Ryou's worst fear is his yami," so I figured I'd take a shot at the spirit's worst fear. So, I bet that Bakura's worst fear is Zorc. But Zorc is possessing him right now and doesn't want his plans screwed up, and so I went for the next best thing: Akhenaden. Since the priest is Zorc's vessel later on anyways, I figured it was essentially the same thing. Although the death of his village is probably the spirit's worst _memory, _not fear, I felt that Bakura needed something to at least momentarily trigger his fear over his anger, and I'd say that Zorc manifested during the ritual, so something had to happen.  
2. Remember all that wizard superstition about elder wands? This is why Ollivander is kind of being weird.  
3. In case you are entertaining creepy fantasies about this, let me smack you back to real life. Or real canon. Whatever. Dramatic irony, everyone, we know that Bakura is NOT a vampire (I hope we all know this) and in fact being influenced by Zork. Dude, that's how Zork & Pals started, weird influence.


	8. In Slytherin Chambers

Author Notes: I suck. Behold my very very very late update. And to make it worse, pretty much nothing happens in this chapter. How I manage to write 8000 words about absolutely nothing I don't know... but at least you have something to read. I've been distracted by other shiny new story ideas, but I've finally gotten to finishing this chapter. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, positive or not. As it evidently wasn't clear before (I don't know why I'm only just getting these reviews), Bakura's so-called feeling of unwarranted "guilt" is a part of the plot. For those of you disbelievers out there, I will tell you now that no, he will not go "soft". It's a passing thing. Remember that Millennium World/Ancient Egypt happens almost right after this, and if I recall correctly, he is the VILLAIN in that arc. Still, I'm glad you all told me how fail he was being, because that means you actually care :3. It's my fault anyways, for not pointing it out clearly enough in the footnote. Or for hitting you too hard with that frying pan. But yeah, thanks anyways. I will attempt to be more straightforward in future footnotes. Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Okay, now for the anonymous reviews:

To caiancaldasar: Yay, questions. Ryou isn't weak in magic. He's about average at it, while the spirit is good at it. If you'll recall, Hermione, being a prodigy, manages spells on her first or second try, but everyone else takes a few dozen attempts and blows things up in the process-- and that's with an instructor. Ryou has only ever read a few books on theory, and it's not surprising that he has some trouble with the practical aspects. I'm trying to be realistic here, and not make him a modified Gary Stu. As for wand and shadow magic, I personally believe that all magic is inherently the same. Shadow magic simply draws on an outside source (shadow realm) in addition to one's own magic, making it more powerful but less controllable. Wizard magic, in comparison, while complicated, is usually easy to control once understood and draws on a minimum of ba, so little that a wizard can use magic all his life without danger, assuming he doesn't continually perform advanced spells such as the Unforgivables. Everyone has ba, and therefore everyone could potentially use magic, but I believe it must be cultivated at a young age. Like all other talents, of course, some people show extraordinarily more innate ability, and these are our "wizards". Of course, that's just what I think, and how I've combined the worlds of _Yu-Gi-Oh_ and _Harry Potter_.

To ghost nappa: To address those points you brought up: First of all, Bakura doesn't have conscious mental barriers, because he's never needed to. They're just there. It's one of the perks of having an Item. I don't think the spirit would have perceived an inanimate object like the hat as a threat, whether or not it can read minds. He had to have had some sort of "heads up" from the golden trio, and he would have been prepared for it. As for what house he's in... I'm not trying to write an easily progressive story. I'm trying to _realistic_. There is no way that Bakura could _ever_ be in Gryffindor, bar influence on the hat from Dumbledore. He isn't reckless or daring, and he isn't chivalrous by any means. Dumbledore wouldn't care enough to rig the hat (and I'm not certain he even can), as despite the intrigue that a strange foreign wizard may provide, he is still focused on Harry Potter, as he should be. As for Marik and Yugi, neither of them are particularly close with Bakura. Marik had a business deal with him, while he and Yugi are acquaintances at best while there is that rift of distrust between them. There is _no feasible reason_ for either Marik or Yugi to be anywhere in the vicinity of Britain, and those who do not live on the British Isles do not get invited to Hogwarts. Additionally, I do not wish to write a cliche "Yugi, Bakura, and Marik go to Hogwarts" story. There are enough of those as is. I hope you can enjoy the story the way it's being written.

To anon: Yugi and Marik are addressed above. Kaiba will not be going Hogwarts, if that is what you mean. However, he/his technology may appear once or twice, depending on whether or not I can fit it in. It is unlikely that he will show his face, but maybe his jet will fly overhead or something. Heh.

Disclaimer: [--- Doesn't own ---]

"Speech"

_"Telepathy"_

_'Thoughts'_

**(Footnote Number)**

Constructive criticism, suggestions, and pointing out of errors in syntax are always welcome, as I don't have a beta and self editing only does so much. Plus, my word processor's not working, so there may be grammar errors, as neither GoogleDocs nor Fanfiction have a grammar checker.

xxxxxx

Ryou sat down dazedly beside Malfoy, who clapped him on the back and nodded at him. On the other side of the room, Ron Weasley shook his head, staring disbelievingly at the boy with the shock of white hair that was visible even from where he sat. He had thought Bakura was his _friend._ It was no less than betrayal, that the albino be put in the house of serpents.

"You won, mate." Fred told his brother, prodding him. Ron blinked, looking up at the twins.

"Wha-- oh. Yeah, I s'pose I did, huh?" he muttered. He had previously thought that Bakura was a snake, even bet on it, and his instincts had been right. But... Ron thought back to his broom. The newest Comet model. He'd only ever dreamed of owning it, and now, soon, the package would arrive. Bakura had paid for most of it, and the redhead knew it. There was no way his mother could have afforded it otherwise, anyways. He supposed the albino had been okay most of the time. But _Slytherin!_

Harry Potter was confused, and doubt flooded its way into his conscious. The strange inconsistencies in Bakura's story, his knives, even his pet. It all made sense. Why hadn't he seen it before? The guy was chummy with _Malfoy_, for God's sake! And Dumbledore had trusted him, let him into Grimmauld Place! What if he was a Death Eater? But Harry kept his reservations to himself. He knew that Ron would flip out, and Hermione would try to analyze the albino's character rationally, or something. He brooded over it, unsure of what to think.

Ryou sat in his own little world, unaware of the stares directed towards him from not only the Gryffindor table, but from the other two house tables as well, for his introduction was certainly something interesting and strange. Whispers fluttered about the room, their content varying from his looks to his reason for attending Hogwarts, wild speculation often much stranger than the truth. But as the sorting progressed, so the attention slowly shifted from the strange albino to the pristine golden plates before them, which the returning students knew would soon fill up with delectable food. Their stomachs grumbled loudly, and they were impatient for the sorting to end so that they could dig in.

The spirit looked through Ryou's eyes, frustrated that he couldn't turn his head or even move the eyes for that matter, in order to change his field of vision. Briefly, he thought of separating from the body, but he was unsure if the ghosts would be able to see him. Besides, it was annoying to do so anyways-- being in a body was much more preferable. Irritated, he knocked Ryou out of the body and took over. The boy was so lost in thought, he probably didn't even notice, anyways. And if he did, well, he wasn't putting the vessel to good use, so he may as well give it over.

Now in control, the spirit satisfied his curiosity, burgundy eyes darting around and taking in the scenery. Although her face made him cringe, he forced himself to look at the toad with the fashion crisis. He marveled at how ugly a person could get. Even Akhenaden was better looking than this, which was saying something, considering the priest had been extremely old, if Bakura remembered correctly. But there was something weird about it. He scrutinized every detail of her face, as well as the entire system, wondering just what made her so disgusting. Her face had odd proportions-- the forehead was too prominent, and the eyes bulged. The simpering expression she wore scrunched up her face, giving her more wrinkles than she already had. Her head was squashed, and although she wasn't exactly fat, the short curls that stuck to her scalp made her already flattened head look much wider than it actually was. Along with this, her tightly buttoned cardigan, rather than making her look slimmer, simply extended the illusion of flab, for the robes underneath were rather bulky.

But all of that still did not explain the utter revulsion he felt from simply looking at her. Those features weren't enough to make a not quite middle-aged woman hideous. There had to be something else about her that inspired loathing and disgust, not just her outward appearance. Perhaps it was the smug glint in her eyes, or the aura of contempt that she exuded. Aura... That was it. Her aura reeked of hypocrisy, if his rudimentary ability to read souls was any indication. If there was one thing the spirit could not stand, it was hypocrisy. It wasn't some petty moral issue; it was simply because hypocrites had killed his family and destroyed Kul Elna. The Pharaoh, the accursed Pharaoh, had, in the name of the righteousness, slaughtered his entire village in an unholy ritual, and dared to deny that he had done any wrong.

Bakura growled under his breath. Hypocrites were disgusting. Like him, they killed, they manipulated, and they tortured, but unlike him, they held meaningless principles and tried to justify their actions. They made excuses, as if they hadn't enjoyed it, or were doing it for some greater good **(1)**. Justice was for those who believed in good and evil, black and white. Justice wasn't something that applied to the real world. Trying to defend actions in the name of justice was simply ridiculous.

The spirit was prodded out of his brooding thoughts by the tail end of Dumbledore's words, the irritating voice of the old man finally getting to him. "--for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

He blinked, a little startled as the golden plates filled up with a plethora of food. Frankly, he was unsure of what to eat. Glancing around, he was satisfied at the sight of various meat-containing savory dish and a few large joints of mutton. It wasn't that he didn't like vegetables or anything of that sort. He simply hadn't gotten over the fact that the presence of meat at a meal was taken for granted these days, when in the past his village was hard pressed to find anything to put on the table at all. It wasn't as if the village of thieves owned any good land for agriculture. Rather, the place was stranded in the middle of the desert, its inhabitants fighting to survive.

At any rate, he'd never seen such a feast, not even at the Pharaoh's table when he'd barged in at mealtime. Then again, he'd never actually crashed any royal parties, so he didn't know if celebrations warranted that much more and better food.

His eating was interrupted by the realization that there was a large transparent mass before him. Without making it obvious that he'd been caught off guard, he put down his fork and tilted his head upward, giving the ghost a blank stare.

"Hello." the spirit said pleasantly, thinking it ironic that he was probably much older than the deceased man floating above the table. The ghost had an angular face, with thick eyebrows and lines that suggested he scowled often and smiled rarely. More notable was his dress, an embroidered frock coat and silken trousers adorned with silvery tendrils of ghostly blood and what looked suspiciously like chains. Interesting.

"Greetings, I am the Bloody Baron." the ghost informed every first year in the general direction of Bakura, inclining his head. It was a fitting name, and described pretty well both the expensive looking clothing and the liquid that covered it. Bakura nodded to the ghost.

"Pleasure to meet you." he said, a little of the interest he felt seeping through his voice. The other first years, on the contrary, looked terrified. Idly, he wondered when the man had lived, that he would've been murdered so messily. While Bakura enjoyed making his victims scream, too much blood was always a hassle, as it was liable to stain the murderer's clothing, and then people would ask questions. Then again, perhaps the name "Bloody Baron" wasn't actually referring to his physical state in death, but to his conduct in life. Perhaps he was killed by an angry civilian mob, and no one cared that he'd died, feeling better off without him. The spirit scowled, realizing that his thoughts had gone off track. Frankly, it didn't matter how the Baron had gotten his name. He closed his eyes and attuned himself to his surroundings once more, remembering to listen instead of simply hear and to be observant. It wouldn't do to be caught unawares once more.

The ghost seemed content with simply introducing himself, and he soon drifted away to speak with some of the older students. Bakura continued eating, forcing himself to mind his manners to keep up appearances. This was completely different from his host's apartment, or even Grimmauld Place. He was in public, and everybody at the Slytherin table and then some would be judging him on first impressions. It was always a wise idea to make a good first impression, especially where manipulation and concealment was concerned. If he recalled correctly, the reason why he wasn't close friends with the reincarnated Pharaoh and able to get to the puzzle was because he'd been too certain that he could defeat Yugi, and failed to take into account that challenging someone to a shadow game wasn't exactly the best way to gain their trust. Actually, he couldn't remember what had possessed him to be so rash and overconfident **(2)**. In the past, he'd always managed to study and take advantage of his enemies' weaknesses and conceal his own before he struck. Yet, he'd somehow decided that he'd be able to beat Yugi just because he had ways of cheating. He must have forgotten that cheating at all was a blatant weakness in and of itself, and something that could be exploited by the keen-eyed opponent. And by one's own hikari.

A surge of resentment washed through him, and he couldn't believe he'd let himself be influenced by the boy. The spirit's rational mind told him that it was an event long past, and that his prospects were by no means gone, yet he could not help but feel anger and disgust, both at Ryou and himself. And though the initial burst of negative emotion passed, the dregs of annoyance and unease still stirred at the bottom of his conscious, even as he helped himself to a lemon tart once the dessert appeared.

As he finished his pastry, Bakura realized that he was full. Incontrovertibly full, and unable to eat another bite. This revelation surprised him, as he couldn't ever remember having eaten so much in one sitting before. He hoped that this sort of feast was not an everyday occurrence; if it was, he would have to pay attention to how much he ate, for being sluggishly full made him less aware and dulled his reflexes. That, and he didn't want to get fat.

The spirit found that he was falling into yet another reverie, a pool of irrelevant thoughts seeking to drown his hold on reality. Shaking himself, he sat up straighter. It felt like he held a stone in his stomach, and he again reprimanded himself for eating so much. He couldn't believe that the children around him were still devouring more food, shoveling sweets into their mouths. Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, he spied Ron Weasley, who was stuffing his face without a care in the world. So perhaps Slytherins were a bit more refined... but they were still eating ridiculous amounts.

Eventually, the desserts vanished as the main course had, and by then, even the most avid of eaters looked just about full. Bakura trained his eyes on the headmaster as the man stood and prepared to speak. Even if the spirit didn't care what he had to say, he felt it wise to listen carefully in case there was something important to be missed.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," the old man said. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students-- and a few of our..." Bakura pursed his lips, wondering why that was so. While Dumbledore was an annoying old prick, he probably did care in some ways about his students. And from his words, the spirit concluded that this had been the norm for many years now. Perhaps there were dangerous creatures in the forest. His thoughts were interrupted as the headmaster spouted more useful information.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Bakura's eyes darted up to the toad woman once more. She was smiling smugly, although she seemed a bit distracted. Disgusting. The expression just made her even more repulsive. He smirked at her reception, which was lukewarm at best, as most of those in the hall did not even bother to clap. He certainly didn't. Beside him, however, Draco Malfoy clapped enthusiastically, although his face didn't show any appreciation for the woman. Bakura was confused for a moment, before he recalled something. Draco's father worked at the Ministry of Magic, and was chummy with the Minister himself. The toad woman, Umbridge, also worked there. Malfoy was probably expected to welcome her.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the--" he stopped, giving Umbridge a questioning look. Bakura sneered. The woman gave an extremely fake imitation of clearing her throat, obviously intending to speak. Dumbledore had actually stopped his speech for this sad excuse for a human. The spirit couldn't believe the manipulative, adamant headmaster had actually given way to the disgusting woman. If the startled expression that flashed for a moment onto the old man's face was any indication, it wasn't the norm, and Dumbledore seemed to regret shutting up. A moment later, however, he composed himself and sat down, pretending to be very interested in what Umbridge had to say.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she began in a revoltingly girlish voice, a voice that made the spirit want to seize her by the neck and slam her against a wall before impaling her on a volleyball pole and leaving her to die slowly and agonizingly, "for those kind words of welcome." she cleared her throat falsely again.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" Bakura subconsciously noted that her teeth were very pointy. Was she a vegetarian **(3)**? "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me."

The spirit wondered if she was referring to Draco Malfoy, who had a strained and obviously forced smile on his face. No one else in the hall appeared to be happy at all. He himself was currently livid. The woman needed a severe wake up call, for she seemed to think a little too highly of herself.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Those words, though trite and expected, would have been pleasant and welcoming, if it hadn't been for her tone. She continued to speak in a condescending manner, as if those she addressed were toddlers. Umbridge cleared her throat again. Her speech was dry and businesslike now.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community," Bakura snorted at this pronouncement, "must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching." Here Umbridge stopped and bowed a little to each of the staff. Bakura noted that, far from being respectful, the bow seemed as fake as all of the other well-meaning expressions the woman had displayed so far.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay." The spirit was intrigued by this arrangement of words._ 'And that is as it should be'_ seemed awkward and unfitting for a speech that had doubtlessly been written with care and was now recited word for word. It seemed like a bad attempt at being subtle, as if trying to say that _'it's not how it should be, but we can't say it outright or there will be protest.' _Umbridge's next words bolstered these suspicions, "There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation, because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors in judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what out to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited." she concluded **(4)**.

The extreme repetitiveness of the speech along with the bad presentation of the stuffy and flowery prose seemed to Bakura intentional. It was a threat. A threat made for the teachers, who had less power than the children in regards to their freedom of speech, and it was made to pass over the heads of most of the students. Indeed, only a spare few had actually heard and understood the entirety of the speech; most of the occupants of the four house tables looked on the verge of sleep. Essentially, the ministry wanted things to go their way. _'Tried and tested traditions indeed,'_ the spirit thought. From what he'd seen of the wizarding world, most of their ways were archaic, complicated, and inconvenient compared to so-called "inferior" muggle methods of doing similar tasks.

It was evident, however, that a good part of the prejudices of wizards came from the ministry itself. And it was evident as well that it had no interest in changing its ways, and wanted to bring any radical ideas to the standstill. And from the somber and slightly angry glint in Dumbledore's ordinarily bright eyes, he was one of the proponents of such radical ideas.

In Bakura's opinion, disaster would fall either way. The ministry was idiotic and had too much power, while Dumbledore was manipulative and too righteous. But in the end, the spirit really didn't care. It wasn't his problem, however embroiled in the wizarding world he was. He was merely a spectator in their battles for power. All he needed to do was get out of the place alive, and get back to his true goal of attaining the Millennium Items.

Of course, getting out alive was more easily said than done. Even with the hefty distraction that current issues provided, he wasn't sure that the fact that there was "two" of him would remain undiscovered, not when he was surrounded by potentially nosy children. The adults would not likely be as much of a threat, as they had to deal with more important things. Even Dumbledore, who had presented such an infuriating man, would eventually lose interest in him, if he managed to prove himself an ordinary child. He wasn't some savior of the world, or the "Boy-who-lived". He was simply a foreigner, and any curiosities he stirred up would quickly depart.

But with children surrounding him for an entire year, someone was all too likely to get suspicious. If he made any slip-ups, revealed any indication that he was anything but an ordinary teen, there would be hell to pay. If the students discovered him, the teachers would be next to know, and after that came the higher-ups in magical society who would either imprison him in a hospital or attempt to kill him. Both circumstances were those he'd rather avoid.

He would just have to be extremely careful, and also make sure his host did not get too friendly with anyone. All to often, "friends" leaked information, whether intentionally or not. Confidentiality was essential, and the hikari would do well to get over his moralistic worldview and face reality.

Speaking of which, he'd heard nary a breath from Ryou all the way through the meal, something he found strange. While the spirit wasn't going to complain about the lack of inane chatter, it was something abnormal. Reaching into the recesses of his mind, he ran into a wall, metaphorically speaking. And it was his own wall.

It was strange, but he had somehow blocked off his host unintentionally. The wall was familiar; it was the same kind he'd always used to suppress Ryou's consciousness when he needed to work without distraction (essentially most of the time). Well, it didn't matter, really. The input of his other self was not needed at the moment anyways. He glanced back up to the staff table just as Dumbledore stood once more.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the twelfth of September. Now, I'm sure we're all ready to turn in, so good night **(5)**!" he said, and at these words, the hall burst into movement as children scrambled over the benches and made for the doors.

"First years, come with me." Draco called out, before he turned to Bakura.

"You're not exactly a first year, but come with me anyways. I need to show you where our common room is." he said amicably enough, though his demeanor was haughty. The spirit had the distinct impression that Malfoy was trying to lord even this triviality over him. Well, it wasn't very important, and if the blond wanted to act immature, then so be it.

"Of course." he returned, and followed Malfoy at the fore of the procession of first years. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors headed up the first set of staircases, while the Hufflepuffs and his own house continued down the hall and proceeded downwards. Soon, the Hufflepuffs went down a side hall while the Slytherins continued to trudge deeper into the bowels of the castle.

Bakura could tell that they were now in the dungeons, although he doubted that the place had ever been used as an actual prison, not if the Slytherin common rooms were located there. He'd read enough of _Hogwarts, a History _to know that the builders of the castle had intended it for a school, and not a fortress, although it was well defended by wards and could serve as one in times of war.

Eventually, after traversing countless winding corridors, they arrived in front of an empty wall. Draco presented it with an overdramatic flourish.

"_Memento mori_ **(6)**." he murmured, and a piece of the wall moved out of the way to reveal a set of steps leading down into the common room. Bakura stepped inside, committing the password to memory. He sauntered casually down the steps, drinking in the contents of the hexagonal room. Here and there were black and green couches and wooden chairs, usually leaned up against the walls, which were papered in a disconcerting pattern that wavered in the dim lighting. Desks and tables were positioned conveniently before the seating areas. Many paned windows revealed that the Slytherins were, in fact, under the lake, which only added to the mysterious quality of the common room. The entirety of it was lit by torches mounted at intervals and encompassed by colored glass so that they would cast green rays. An unlit hearth stood on the opposite side of the room. Bakura turned and headed towards the appropriate dormitory, intent on getting to bed.

The boys' dormitories were down a short set of stairs. Two staircases on either side led to separate parts of the landing below, which evidently contained the second and fourth year dorms. A quick analysis of the sign on the wall told him that this year, fifth year rooms were on the third basement floor, and could be accessed by going down the staircase on the right, which also led to the fourth year side of the second floor.

Bakura turned and headed down the stairs, stopping briefly at the fourth years' landing to peer down the gloomy hallway, which was lit only by small lamps that gave off a flickering green glow. It was currently empty, and relatively uninteresting. Further down were the third year dorms, but the spirit felt no need to explore the bottommost landing. Instead, he entered the similarly lit corridor on his appropriate floor, searching for his room.

It was evidently behind the last door in the hallway. The plaque upon it read "T. Nott, K. Anderson, A. Montague, B. Zabini, R. Bakura **(7)**". The spirit noticed that his host's name (his own by extension) looked darker and fresher than the others. It made sense, as he was a recent addition.

He grasped the door handle and turned it, pushing inward to open the door. The interior was almost entirely dark, devoid of even the green lanterns and lit only by the two torches mounted above the door. As far as the spirit could tell, the bathroom was to the left. The area surrounding the four-poster beds were personalized, of all except for one, which was obviously his. Sure enough, the trunk standing by that bed was his host's. Briefly, Bakura debated whether or not to have a shower, before deciding that it could wait until tomorrow morning. He extricated himself from his robes, carefully removing all the sharp weapons in his clothing and shaking his wand loose from where it had gotten stuck to his arm. He changed into Ryou's pajamas and slipped the magical stick of wood back up his sleeve. Unsure of what to do with the remaining weapons, he finally decided to place the small daggers in the trunk, keeping his own knife under his pillow, serrated edge inwards so he wouldn't cut himself in his sleep. Tired and ready for bed, he climbed onto his mattress, pulled the curtains shut, and crawled under the covers.

Ryou awoke in confusion, unsure of how exactly he'd gotten to bed, or why the bed he was in was unfamiliar. His right hand was numb and hard to move, as it was under the pillow and bore the weight of his head. As he moved it, however, he felt a measure of pain that, though dulled, was still noticeable. He sat up groggily and inspected his hand, which, to his confusion and irritation, was bleeding slightly from a neat little cut that looked as if it had been inflicted by a blade. Set was curled up at the foot of his bed, still fast asleep, so it _couldn't_ have been the snake.

On second thought, it probably looked the way it did because it _had_ been the work of a knife. Whipping around, Ryou shoved his pillow aside, grimacing as he spotted the long knife that lay there, exposed. He was fairly certain now as to where he was, and how he'd gotten there. Gingerly, he picked up the weapon and set it down on his now sideways pillow. Sucking on his finger, which was quickly regaining feeling and experiencing more pain, he pushed the heavy coverlet away and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. He flinched a little when a draft of cold air swept over his bare feet as he swept back the drapes on his bed.

At least the spirit had had the decency to put on his pajamas before going to bed. Ryou doubted that robes were the most comfortable thing to fall asleep in. He glanced around the room. His bed was at the rightmost corner, and the walls around it seemed dismally bare in comparison to the meter of wall that his neighbor's space included. A plethora of posters, all with moving pictures of white and gray clad people rocketing around on broomsticks, plastered the surface from ceiling to floor. The name, "Falmouth Falcons" was visible here and there, and, along with the image of a falcon's head, was emblazoned extravagantly on a banner that hung below the largest poster **(8)**.

Ryou saw that the window between his and his neighbor's beds was open a crack, letting in the chilly morning air-- or was it air at all? Upon closer inspection, it seemed that the dorms were deep underwater. Ryou could only conclude that it was magic channeling fresh air into the area. The clock on the wall by the door told him that it was five in the morning. Despite the ungodly hour however, the middle bed had its curtains pinned up and was made neatly, its occupant nowhere to be found. The living space around this bed was not as brightly bedecked as was the one beside Ryou's, but it certainly looked lived in. A single large piece of parchment hung on the wall, depicting the unmoving visage of a smiling woman in a black and white charcoal sketch that was surprisingly detailed and lifelike. On the side table rested a teetering pile of books and an ornately framed picture showing the same woman. She was rather pretty, and looked to be in her thirties in the photograph. Ryou wondered if she was the mother of the boy who occupied the bed. If so, he could only imagine that she was deceased, for there was no other way that a teenage boy would put up pictures of his mother for all to see.

The curtains around the last two beds were still closed, and audible snores emanated from the one at the end. Ryou felt groggy, and decided that it would be nice to take a shower, especially while everyone else was still asleep.

The door to the bathroom was on the other side of the room. Inside, he met a boy with dark brown hair and deep, penetrating eyes. He turned as he saw Ryou in the mirror.

"Hello, you must be Bakura... Ryou, if I'm correct." he uttered softly. "I am Theodore Nott. Nott, if you please, or Theo. Either is fine. And welcome to Slytherin, of course." Briefly, Ryou wondered how the boy, Nott, knew his name, before he remembered, feeling foolish, that it had been announced during the sorting.

"Thank you." he replied, nodding his head. Nott nodded back, readjusting the towel in his arms.

"Well, I'll leave you to yourself then." he said, turning and walking out the door. Ryou's first impression of Theodore Nott was that he was... well, kind of creepy. Now alone however, Ryou felt less nervous and self conscious, and set at once to brushing his teeth. He realized just how fortunate he'd been that he was so used to concealing the Ring that it was under even his pajamas. Once his teeth were done with, he stripped and stepped into the shower, quickly becoming more awake as the warm water cascaded over him.

As much as he wanted to stay in the shower for a long time, maybe forever, his skin was starting to feel rubbery and he knew that he'd already spent a ridiculous amount of time washing and was sufficiently clean. As he exited the stall, he realized that he'd forgotten to bring his towel into the bathroom. Understandably, the modest boy was a little panicked and rather unenthusiastic at dashing across the dorm rooms stark naked but for a large gold pendant to rummage his trunk for the desired article. Fortunately, he was spared the potential embarrassment when he spotted a rack partly concealed by a wayward shower curtain, upon which lay folded several fluffy white towels for public use.

Wasting no time, Ryou dried himself off, rubbing the towel vigorously through his mane of white hair, which was currently loose and puffy from the frictional static. Frustrated that he'd forgotten to bring any necessary items into the bathroom, he wrapped the now very damp towel around his waist and hurried back into the room, where he discovered the remaining three occupants still sound asleep. Letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, he dashed over to his trunk and threw it open. Unsurprisingly, the interior was no longer organized, but haphazard and messy. Ryou spotted his knives laying around along with a twisted pile of dirty clothing from the previous day and a wrinkled black robe. It figured that the spirit didn't understand the need for orderliness or cleanliness.

Sighing, the albino pushed things around in search of all the unprovided components of his school uniform **(9)**, resolving to reorganize it all later. He managed to produce a clean white shirt, a pair of black pants, and his belt and duel deck, but could not for the life of him find where he'd put his shoes, of all things. Apparently, he needed nice black shoes instead of just the tennis shoes he usually wore. Giving it up for now, he turned to the house-specific clothing that was laid out for him on his side table, neatly folded. A dark green and silver silk tie sat on a charcoal sweater with green and silver on the cuffs and neckline. To his surprise, another robe was provided even though the supplies list had asked him to buy his own. Upon further inspection, however, Ryou was able to conjecture that the robe he'd bought himself was for when school was not in progress, as the new one was lined with green and sported the Slytherin crest on the chest. A warm looking scarf, again in the Slytherin house colors, was rolled up beside these. Ryou took it and stowed it in a drawer in the large side table that doubled as storage, figuring that it was meant for the colder seasons. It was rather chilly outside already, however, so he slipped the sweater over his head and did up his tie as best he could without a mirror. Pulling his robes on afterward, he found that he was snugly warm.

Turning back to the mess of his trunk, he decided that he might as well unpack. Taking out his still somewhat folded clothing, he pulled open the drawer he'd shoved the scarf into and proceeded to fill it, removing the scarf in the process.

In the drawer below that, he placed the scarf and his other school clothing, including the many white shirts he was now glad he owned. He only had three pairs of black pants in his possession, but he supposed he'd make do. Wizards seemed to have particularly complicated school uniforms, really. Added to the fact that it was never specified what would and would not be provided, and the entire thing was just confusing.

Finally finished with putting away most of his clothes, he turned his attentions to the other things he'd brought. Sometime during the process of extracting his blue shirt, which had gotten stuck at the bottom of the trunk and tangled up, the black shoes he'd sought for had been unearthed, along with his hairbrush. Dropping everything else, he snatched up the brush and stalked back into the bathroom, glancing at the clock along the way, which told him that despite the amount of time he'd taken in the shower and unpacking, it was still early, only five forty-five. Once in front of a mirror, he attended to his neglected hair, pulling the bristles on the brush gently through his locks. They untangled without much fuss, but he realized that they were still very wet, only given the illusion of dryness by the expanded state it had been in. Retrieving the towel he'd used, he rubbed it through his hair again, brushed it again, found it still damp, and repeated the process a few more times. Eventually, he deemed his hair dry enough, if still rather cool to the touch **(10)**. Straightening his tie and smoothing his hair uncertainly, he finally deemed himself presentable.

Unsure of what to do with the towel now that he'd finished with it, he simply returned it to the rack and exited the bathroom, depositing his brush on his side table and closing his trunk, which still contained his school supplies and some wayward items. He was halfway to the door before he realized that he'd forgotten to arm himself, returning to his bedside and retrieving the knives that he'd casually left there. He slipped them into their customary positions and was about to leave again when he remembered that he had a new weapon-- his wand.

...Where exactly was it? He couldn't remember, for the life of him. The day before, it had been up his sleeve as the spirit had suggested, and when he'd fallen asleep during dinner-- wait, how had he fallen asleep during dinner anyways?

Ryou couldn't remember what had happened at dinner either. It occurred to him that the spirit might well have suppressed him, as he couldn't even recall eating anything, or seeing the spirit eat. And he _had_ been kind of hungry beforehand, so he should've noticed. Besides, Ryou didn't doubt for one moment that the spirit was capable of "going back" to his old ways. He hadn't really left in the first place, after all. Just because he'd been more talkative and less conniving didn't mean that his personality had changed a whit. It was simply that there was no Yugi or his friends here to bother them and no loose Millennium Items to be stolen, and therefore no need to be so... businesslike. It was the only word Ryou could think of to describe the spirit. Everything he did seemed related to his goal of gathering the Items. Odd as it may seem to call a thief businesslike, it was what he was.

But back to his wand. Ryou tried to think like a paranoid thief. What would he do with his wand before bed? It wasn't that great of a weapon, considering neither of them knew if they could do anything more than the simplest of spells, and there was already a knife hidden under the pillow. The other knives had been thrown carelessly-- well, maybe not carelessly, exactly-- into the trunk, and Ryou was sure the spirit was not the type to go to bed with only one weapon nearby. Besides, he'd woken up stiff and his arm was numb. What if-- maybe the wand had been kept up his sleeve, in his _pajama_ sleeves **(11)**. Jerking around, Ryou grabbed his discarded sleepwear and shook it out, extremely pleased with himself as the stick of wood dropped out. He'd been right.

Stuffing it up his sweater sleeve, he headed towards the exit of the rooms, intent on finally getting outside the oppressively quiet atmosphere of the dormitories. It was already six, but his remaining roommates were still asleep. Ryou figured it was normal, however, as breakfast didn't even start until seven thirty, and classes began at nine, three hours away. He supposed there was no point in being up now. And to think that Nott had gotten up even earlier than he had!

As he exited the corridor his room was in, he realized he had no idea which way to go to get to the common room. He wasn't even sure if it was up or down! However, considering they were under a large body of water, probably the lake that they'd crossed the previous evening, Ryou supposed that it was only logical to go up. He wasn't wrong, and soon enough, he ended up in the deserted Slytherin common room. He couldn't help but gawk at the green walls of the oddly shaped and decorated room. It struck him is strange that Nott wasn't here. Where could he have gone this early in the morning?

Then again, it wasn't really Ryou's business to know or care. He was only the second fellow Slytherin Ryou had really talked to so far, the first being, of course, Malfoy. Nott was just weird, while Malfoy was arrogant, but seemed to want to associate with him. Either way, Slytherin didn't seem the best house for making friends. Even the very nature of the house wasn't conducive to relationships. Ambition, cunning... well, Ryou supposed that those qualities _could_ be used to pursue love and maybe create obsession, but he doubted that one really wanted such friends. Then again, he was in the house himself-- did that mean he was an undesirable friend?

There was still the spirit of course. He was certainly _very_ ambitious and manipulative. But Ryou could understand why he himself was where he was. He was intelligent and self-preserving. Both of those were just one step from the bolder qualities used to describe the model Slytherin.

Yes, he was self-preserving. And to Ryou, that meant not only his life, but his mind and body. There was always a potentially malevolent spirit around to wrest him from consciousness. And while he was sure his body was in good hands when he was possessed, his mind was often locked away. It hadn't been that way recently, unless his suspicions about last night were true. They probably were.

Ryou would like nothing better than to get rid of the spirit of the Ring. However, something seemed to keep them attached, something more than just the attractive powers of the Ring itself. Deep in the recesses of his soul, Ryou knew that he would never be rid of the spirit.

_'"I am you."'_ those haunting words, words that the spirit had uttered to him when he'd first discovered the Ring's former inhabitant, were still easily recalled. Ryou's logical mind told him that it was simply an intimidation tactic, but he couldn't help but believe those words. He couldn't deny that he had some similarities with the spirit, past his appearance.

But either way, the spirit was a problem. He didn't seem to care what kind of trouble he got his host in, so long as it wasn't life threatening. But now, now they were in an unfamiliar place. A place where they were forced to keep secrets from everyone. A place where they could trust no one but each other. Essentially, that meant that Ryou Bakura could trust only himself, seeing as he and the spirit were technically the same person.

Ryou figured that the spirit was trustworthy as long as it wasn't about anything Yugi or Millennium Item related. The spirit knew just as well-- no, better, as it was his idea in the first place-- as Ryou that they needed to seem ordinary at all costs and somehow manage to get back home to Japan.

After all, Ryou figured as he was greeted by the frigid air of the dungeons, he still had a normal education to worry about.

xxxxxx

Footnotes (*faints* Look at how many there are!):

1. *Cough* Dumbledore *cough*. I respect him, but hell, he fit this description well.

2. Heh, because he actually _is_ possessed.

3. It's mentioned in OotP that Umbridge had pointed teeth. While that may just be Harry's vilifying of her, I'm taking it at face value. Vegetarians may have pointy canines because they don't dull them trying to tear through meat. As repulsive as Umbridge is, I _can_ imagine her as a vegetarian. Vampires also have pointy teeth, but it isn't something that would come to Bakura's mind. Besides, Umbridge+vampire = WTF.

4. I grafted the two sections of Umbridge's speech together. In between them was a bit where Harry stopped paying attention and started looking around the room at other people who also weren't paying attention. However, I think that the entire speech was included anyways, as the parts fit together into a cohesive, if redundant, message.

5. I made up a date for the tryouts, because it wasn't actually mentioned (at least, I don't think it was, correct me if I'm wrong). They're usually held sometime during the second week of classes, so I picked the twelfth as a decent date. Also, in Harry's first year, Dumbledore sent everyone off after the school song had been sung. However, in OotP Harry doesn't even notice that everyone's been dismissed until he realizes that people are moving. I assume then that there wasn't anything sung, because Harry would have noticed raucous chorusing... right? I suppose Dumbledore was preoccupied by the ministry influence anyways, and forgot about it.

6. This password has no significance whatsoever. It was just the first Slytherin-ish thing that came to mind. It roughly means "remember that you must die" in Latin, and was supposed to quell overconfidence and pride. I figure since Slytherins are ambitious and usually prideful, it fits.

7. For the HP obsessives out there, I am aware that the Montague mentioned in the books is old (either 7th year or graduated by OotP). However, I wanted a name that wasn't too random, so let's just pretend this is Montague's younger brother or something. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of anyone else that wasn't Malfoy to put for person number 5, so I made up Anderson.

8. The Falmouth Falcons do indeed exist in the HPverse, and are taken from _Quidditch Through the Ages_. They are a team known for their hard play and their beaters especially. I figured they sounded kind of like the Slytherin team.

9. I'm crazy. I think I did way too much research on school uniforms to just write this one paragraph. Anyways, does anyone understand why you have to wear all this crap underneath your robes, even in late spring? I mean... wouldn't it be hot?

10. They don't have hairdryers, I assume, and it IS a boy's dorm, and boys are supposed to have short hair. I never use hairdryers anyways (they damage your hair :O), so I assume Ryou would treat his long hair like I do mine and just wring it out, rub it with a towel, and brush it, either forcibly drying it with repeated toweling or letting it dry naturally. I assume he wouldn't want wet hair all morning (it'd soak his clothes), so he's drying it out. Then again, I'm wasting time. Do you REALLY care about Ryou's morning routine? Heh.

11. The American spelling of "pajama" pisses me off. I'd much rather spell it pyjama, but I've been spelling everything the United States-ian way, and I don't want to randomly change.


End file.
